Lost In Mirkwood
by MildlyInsane
Summary: While traveling through Mirkwood, Thorin and Bilbo get separated from the others. Thorin finds himself having to work very hard to protect Bilbo as the hobbit continues to get himself into danger, while Bilbo realizes that he is a magnet to misfortune. The woods is full of peril, including confusion, twisted roots, poisonous plants, large spiders, suspicious elves and vicious orcs.
1. Phantom Light

**Lost in Mirkwood:**

**While traveling through Mirkwood, Thorin and Bilbo get separated from their company. Thorin finds himself having to work very hard to protect Bilbo as the hobbit continues to get himself into danger, while Bilbo realizes that he is a magnet to misfortune. The woods is full of peril, including but not limited to confusion, twisted roots, poisonous plants, large spiders, suspicious elves, and vicious orcs.**

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><p><em><strong>**One of my very favorite scenes in the second Hobbit movie was the scene where they were all lost in Mirkwood (before the spiders and right before the films of "The Hobbit" became more like "The Elves.") I loved how they portrayed the confusion of the forest, and so I began this story with a lot of the same sort of thing - the forest not making any sense and all of the characters feeling quite muddled and frustrated by it.<strong>_

_****This story is going to focus a lot on Bilbo finding trouble, and Thorin trying to keep him safe, but Bilbo will also, of course, at some points show his courage and bravery. As we know, he is certainly more than just a liability. It will eventually lead into a plot that will take them back where the original work had them. That is, this is a sort of side-adventure, with a few actual events from the book/movie (which go down a little differently in my version) and does not really heavily affect the outcome of the actual story of The Hobbit. Sting is named already in this though, without explanation... surely that's not a huge issue for anyone...**_

_****This is all told in third person. Most chapters are in Bilbo's third-person point of view, with a few in Thorin's. While Bilbo and Thorin are by far the main characters, many others make appearances in this, most from the book/movies, and a few original characters, but not to worry. These original characters are mostly plot devices and will not overshadow Bilbo and Thorin.**_

_**Wait... Wait... WAIT! Sorry. Just one last thing real quick... This is my 50th fanfiction story! Cue the trumpets! Release the balloons and confetti! Light the Fireworks! Burn down the city! Er... um... Never mind that last bit. I just got so excited. At any rate... Hooray! Congratulations, me! It's a little hard for me to believe that I've been posting on this site since 2008, but looking back at my first stories, I see that the years have improved my writing tremendously, and I am proud and excited to post this as my 50th story. I think it's a good one, and one which deserves to be my 50th. And without further adieu, here you go, lovely readers. Enjoy:**_

_**xxx1xxx**_

With a yelp of surprise, Bilbo fell to the ground as he stumbled over what was either a twisted root, or more likely, his own foot. The roots in these woods seemed to have a mind of their own, but Bilbo's feet and legs felt like lead, and if he had tripped over himself just now, it certainly wouldn't have been the first time it had happened today. Grumbling softly to himself, the hobbit pulled himself back up to his feet and staggered along through the woods, following Bofur's lead. He was so tired of this place.

He and the dwarves had been slowly making their way through Mirkwood, and it seemed like they had been lost for hours... maybe even days. Time didn't seem to flow so clearly here. He had no idea if it was even morning or night. The tree branches above him were so thick he couldn't even see the sun... or moon, or whatever was up there right now.

Everything here was so confusing... Something was certainly off about this forest. In fact, the hobbit had never experienced anything like this place ever in his life. Bilbo had been warned that the forest was to be taken seriously. Gandalf had warned them all about it before they had gone in, and before Gandalf had left them again, but Bilbo couldn't understand how a forest could purposefully lose people, nor could he understand _why_ a forest would do such a thing.

Hobbits were known for their good sense of direction. He had been sure that he'd easily make his way through the forest, and that Gandalf had been overreacting. All they had to do was follow a path. That was easy. He had been confident that he'd be fine. But he wasn't. None of them were. This place made no sense, and they were all very much lost.

Just being lost by itself is frustrating enough, but this forest had done more than lose them. It was confusing them, twisting their worlds around, making them think they saw one thing or walked in a certain direction, when they had actually seen or done the opposite. And nothing was more frustrating than finding out what seemed to be a real experience was in fact entirely fictional.

One minute he'd be walking behind Bofur, and then seemingly with no time passing at all, he'd zone out, come back to himself and find that he was suddenly behind Fili. And then with no warning at all, he'd find that he was behind no one, for some reason leading everyone else. Bilbo didn't even remember walking passed any of the dwarves to get himself in the lead, nor did he recall having any of them walk passed him in those times when it seemed one dwarf would be replaced by another, which was one of the reasons he could no longer keep track of time, as it seemed to be going on without him. It was almost as if he was walking while asleep, waking only for brief moments, long enough to be reminded he was indeed still here, but not long enough to know where he was or what was happening.

"Bofur, did we get turned around again?" the hobbit wondered with an exasperated sigh as he reached out with a heavy arm and tapped Bofur's shoulder, "I thought we'd already gone passed this twisted tree. At least twice..."

"They're all twisted, lad," the dwarf in front of him turned around, but it wasn't Bofur. It was Gloin.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes as he stared at the dwarf in confusion. Gloin looked confused as well, "wasn't Bofur just there?" the hobbit asked, "I... I saw his hat. He was in front of me. I'm sure of it."

"I'm over here, Bilbo!" Bofur's cheerful voice rang out. It sounded like it was coming from above him.

Bilbo widened his eyes and slowly tilted his head upward so that he looked up, but saw nothing but twisted tree limbs.

"Get your head on straight," Thorin's serious voice spoke now. Bilbo looked back in front of himself. Thorin stood where Gloin had a moment before and was looking at Bilbo with annoyance in his features, "don't worry about who's walking where, Mr. Baggins. Let's just concentrate on getting through this wicked forest."

"Where-" Bilbo began, but stopped himself, shaking his head as he tried to rid himself of his confusion. He was going to ask Thorin where he had come from, but didn't want the dwarf any more angry or frustrated than he already was. This place made as little sense to the dwarves as it did to the hobbit. Thorin wouldn't have been able to explain where he had come from any more than Bilbo could explain how he felt like he was walking backwards even as he moved his legs forwards.

So Bilbo kept walking, behind Thorin one minute and then leading the way before he even realized he was. Bilbo hoped he was leading everyone in the right direction. The path they had once been following was long gone. He was just trying to lead them east... or was it west? He didn't know how long he had been leading the way... His feet hurt, and he felt tired, but that was a common occurrence on this journey. He couldn't remember the last time his feet didn't hurt, and he certainly hadn't felt well rested in months.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes as he looked ahead. Was that a light in the distance? It was dim, but it did seem to be there, quite far off across the woods. Light meant the end of the forest, probably, or at least someone's home or a camp fire. At the very least a light could lead them to other people, who might show them the way out of the forest. But was it even a light? Bilbo stared at it, faintly glowing in the distance. It was still there... If the woods was tricking him, it was being persistent in doing so... This wasn't just an out of the corner of his eye type trick. It was right there in front of his eyes, as plain as day. It certainly didn't seem like a trick to him.

It was a light, a real light. It had to be. That was their way out. Bilbo wasn't sure if he had spoken aloud or just mused to himself, but he was going to make his way toward that light. It was something different, for a change, which had to be a good sign. Maybe they were nearing the end of this confusing wood after all.

The light grew brighter and brighter as Bilbo drew closer to it. He still couldn't make out what it was. Was it sunlight? A campfire? Fireflies? Hopefully not just another trick of his mind. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep himself from screaming in frustration if they stayed lost in Mirkwood much longer.

"Hello?" Bilbo called out as he neared the light, but still he couldn't see what the light's source was. Surely it wasn't a group of trolls or orcs camping in the woods... That would be the worst case scenario, though why anyone would camp in these confounded woods would have held no logic to Bilbo whatsoever. Maybe if they were camping, it was because they were lost too, "Hullo over there," Bilbo called out again.

There was no answer, "must be sunlight then," Bilbo spoke to himself with a shrug, "Thorin!" Bilbo called out as he turned himself around, "I may have found the edge of the woods-" he interrupted himself with a panicked gasp when he was fully turned around. No one was behind him.

He glanced this way and that, as far into the distance as the thick trees and mist allowed. He listened for footfalls or grumbling voices. No one was anywhere to be seen or heard.

For a moment, Bilbo remained still and silent as his eyes scanned the trees around him. Everything in the woods seemed to be frozen in time. He heard no wind or insects, no groaning tree limbs... No dwarves... Nothing. It was almost as though he was looking at a painting instead of real life. The woods was too quiet. It seemed darker now than it had before too. Bilbo looked up into the trees' canopy. Perhaps the sun had gone behind a cloud. But then, he couldn't see the sun. He never could in Mirkwood. The trees had been too thick all along. Maybe it was night time... but it had happened so suddenly. Was the darkness a trick of his mind?

Bilbo's eyes followed a single stray leaf as it drifted impossibly slowly down from the branches above him. It seemed to take several minutes to make its way to the forest floor, where it landed without a sound. He shook his head, blinked his eyes, and looked around some more, "hello?" he called out in an uncertain voice. Where had everyone gone? "Thorin? Are you there? Bofur?"

All he could hear in response were his own slow breaths. They sounded too slow. So slow, in fact, that if he had noticed someone else breathing so slowly, he would have feared for their health. Was he really breathing that slowly? He was going to die if he kept breathing like this. The hobbit attempted to breathe quicker. His lungs needed more than one breath per minute. He felt like he was hyperventilating, but the sound of his breaths, which he could hear all around him, were so, so slow, so horrifyingly slow. No one could live while breathing like this.

"Thorin!" he yelled out again, falling to his knees as he clutched at his chest, "I-" he paused as he sucked in several more breaths, but only heard one long, drawn out exhale. He didn't understand this. Sure, the woods did strange things to him, but how could he have forgotten how to breathe? How could he think he was inhaling, but only hear an exhale? He gasped for a few more breaths, but still didn't feel like they were reaching his lungs, "Thorin!" he screamed, "I don't know if I'm breathing," he looked frantically around himself, "Balin!?" he scrambled to his feet and began running back the way he had come. Where was everyone?

He kept running, still not sure if his breaths were even real. He thought he had been breathing. It wasn't as though the action of inhaling was a difficult task to remember how to do, but he couldn't hear his breaths. Even as he ran, an action which required breathing, he couldn't tell if his lungs were really working. Wait... was he even running back the way he come? Which way had he come from? Bilbo paused in a tiny clearing in the woods. He didn't remember this clearing. Where was he?

"Dori? Oin? Gloin?" Bilbo felt his throat tightening as panic truly set in. Was he all alone? Being lost along with the dwarves was terrifying enough. Being lost all by himself was unbearable, "Dwalin?! Anybody!" he gasped, still not sure if he was breathing. He heard his own loud heartbeat, but the deafening breathing sounds he heard, seeming to almost want to drown him, were even slower now than ever, and still mostly just long exhales. He felt so scared. Could Mirkwood really fool him into forgetting how to breathe? Was he going to die here?

How could this be? How could his breaths be so few, even when he felt like he was gasping for air? This didn't make sense. Was the forest simply playing tricks on him? Surely he was breathing, with all his gasping... but he really didn't feel like he was. His lungs burned. It felt so real. He was panicking. He needed to breathe.

"Gandalf!" Bilbo screamed as he fell to the ground with a panicked sob. He knew the wizard wasn't there, but he was desperate. No one else was answering his calls, "Gandalf, please! Help me!" he whimpered, curling himself into a ball and focusing on taking breaths he wasn't sure were reaching his lungs. He had never felt so confused, or scared. Was he breathing? He honestly didn't know.

_**xxxxxx**_

_**I hope you like it so far. Review, please? :)**_


	2. Lost Burglar

_**Before we continue, I'd like to first thank everyone who has been reading, reviewing, favorite-ing, and or following my story. I appreciate the support so much, and it really helps motivate me to update more quickly. Thank you again. I love you guys. :) This next chapter is a bit longer than the first. I hope you like it:**_

_**xxx2xxx**_

These woods were by far the most annoying place Thorin had ever experienced. Traversing them alone would have been frustrating enough, but here he was with a company of twelve other dwarves and one hobbit, and he felt an obligation to keep track of each and every one of them. This was first and foremost Thorin's quest. Therefore it was his responsibility to keep his company from disappearing, for their own sake as well as his. He almost would have preferred to be here in the woods by himself, if for no other reason than not having to worry about the others.

Keeping track of everyone was difficult enough normally, on days when they weren't traveling through wicked forests. Fili and Kili were always getting distracted, the hobbit was so small that they could easily forget he was even there when he wasn't complaining about being hungry... Keeping track of thirteen individual people, with their own tendencies to wander off or get distracted was quite a chore, and Thorin certainly didn't enjoy it. In fact, it was a constant source of stress for him, which was only multiplied in this wretched forest. Nevertheless, no one had been lost yet... at least not for a significant amount of time. The task of keeping everyone together wasn't always easy, but Thorin had been successful thus far, and hoped to continue on in the same fashion.

But now keeping track of his companions was seeming impossible. Everyone, including himself, was confused by these woods. It seemed unusually easy to lose track of things around here. Thorin had already lost track of time, the other dwarves, the hobbit, and even himself in the recent past, which is why he was making a habit of taking a sort of roll-call in his head every time he thought to, so if anyone did get lost, he'd know sooner rather than later. It had been several minutes now, or at least it seemed to have been only minutes, since he last did a head count, so he figured he should probably check again, to make sure everyone was still here.

He glanced back first at his nephews. The ordinarily playful pair were dragging their feet, looking quite forlorn as they trudged along, Fili walking behind Kili, and both were staring at the ground as they made their way through the woods. Thorin wasn't sure if he'd ever seen the two young dwarves look so serious. They seemed to be following behind Balin, who looked just as un-amused as the rest of them. Thorin nodded his head slightly to himself. Balin had a good head on his shoulders. He'd keep Fili and Kili going in the right direction.

Thorin looked among his kin and friend, making a mental note at each additional dwarf who was confirmed to still be among the company. Most of them were good at keeping track of themselves, even in this horrible place. Thorin didn't need to worry about them as much as the others. He scanned the group for Ori, who was one of the few Thorin was a bit worried about. Ori had a tendency to get distracted, as it seemed he was as soon as Thorin spotted him. Presently, Ori was looking up at the twisted tree branches of the forest's canopy with wonder as he walked along.

"Keep your wits about you, Ori," Thorin reminded him.

"Aye," Ori looked around for a moment, as though searching for the source of Thorin's voice. He never seemed to find it, however. He just settled on looking in front of himself and kept walking.

Thorin frowned and shook his head softly to himself. What was it about these woods that was causing his company so much confusion? What made the air so sickeningly heavy here? If he had to guess, Thorin would suppose the very elves who built the path the dwarves had been trying to follow through this forest had probably put some sort of spell on the woods. That would have been just like elves, to do something like that... to make an entire forest nearly impassible to anyone but themselves.

The company continued making their way aimlessly through the woods as Thorin continued tallying up his company. Bifur was there behind Bombur, who looked very tired, but trudged along anyway. This was beyond frustrating. They didn't even know which way they were going, or which way they were meant to go. If ever they were lost, it was now, but they were all here together, and that was worth something. Or at least, he hoped they were all here. He hadn't spotted Bilbo just yet.

"Burglar?" Thorin called out as he glanced among his company for the smallest of their group. He quite unsure where the hobbit had gotten to, but he had to be around somewhere. As of late, Thorin had often taken to calling out for him rather than looking for him, as the little fellow was small and quiet, and therefore very easy to look over. Sometimes it almost seemed as though Bilbo was invisible, only coming out into the open when Thorin called out his name, or rather, usually his profession. The dwarf didn't know how the hobbit managed to remain unseen so often, but somehow Bilbo did, so calling out to him was often the fastest method of finding him.

He heard no answer from the halfling.

Thorin frowned and came to a halt. He scanned over his company yet again. Bilbo didn't seem to be among them, but the hobbit did have a tendency to sneak around quite undetected. Surely someone among their company would know where the burglar had gotten to. Thorin reached his hand out toward the shoulder of the dwarf nearest to him, "Nori, have you seen Bilbo?" he wondered.

Nori shrugged, "not in a while."

"He was right behind me, not five minutes ago," Thorin's shoulders slumped, "so he must have been in front of you..."

"I was behind Oin," Nori looked confused, "wait... Where did he get to, then? Is Oin missing?"

Thorin shook his head as he gestured behind Nori where Oin was walking.

"What is it, lads?" Oin wondered, cocking his head to the side and narrowing his eyes, "you need something Thorin?"

"We're just looking for you," Nori called to the other dwarf, "not to worry. He's right there, Thorin."

"No," Thorin shook his head and barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "I'm looking for our burglar. Have you seen him?" he asked Oin.

"Can't say that I have. I think he was up there near you last I saw of him," Oin answered, "but that must have been ten, twenty minutes ago..."

With an aggravated sigh, Thorin turned away and looked out into the trees, narrowing his eyes and staring out into the foliage. Perhaps he should have tied a rope to the halfling's waist and tethered him to one of the dwarves. He should have expected the tiny little creature would get himself lost in this confounded woods.

"Mister Baggins!" Thorin called out into the trees. All he heard back was an echo of his own voice.

"Said somethin' about a light over that way," Bofur offered as he stumbled behind Thorin, tripping over his own feet and bumping into the other dwarf's back before gesturing out into the the trees.

Thorin nodded, feeling quite tired as he stared out into the thick forest. Everything looked so foggy. He could barely see a few feet in front of himself. Since when was there mist in the forest? He hadn't noticed it before...

"Don't know what light," Bofur mumbled to himself, "I didn't see anything. It looked like he was just stumbling around aimlessly to me."

"Why didn't you tell him not to go?" Thorin wondered as he looked back toward Bofur. He wanted to feel frustrated with his companion for not saying or doing something when he knew their burglar was wandering off away from the rest rest of the company. He should have felt angry, but didn't really. The air was so heavy here. It was difficult to feel anyone was responsible for anything when the air itself seemed to want to keep them lost and their minds muddled. This wasn't Bofur's fault.

"What?" Bofur stared at him with eyes that betrayed his confusion, not speaking for nearly a full minute before gesturing toward the rest of the group, "better keep up with the others. Bilbo probably went with them."

Thorin narrowed his eyes and then turned back to face the direction Bofur had gestured toward moments before, "what light?" he asked, squinting his eyes into the distance. He saw no light. Only mist and trees. What had Bilbo been following?

"Burglar!" he yelled out again, taking a few steps off the path and in the direction Bofur had indicated the halfling had gone. He stared out into the trees for a moment, almost swearing he could see tiny, individual beads of condensation within the mist. Thorin tilted his head slightly to the side as he focused on a single, tiny condensation droplet which seemed almost frozen in space, lingering in the air, "Bofur, what light?" he spoke in a slurred voice as he turned back toward his companion.

When he turned around, no one was behind him. No one was anywhere near him. The entire company was gone, "Bofur?" Thorin stared ahead, completely un-amused. How did he get separated from twelve entire people this fast? They were nowhere to be seen... None of them. He could no longer even hear their shuffling feet.

With a growl of frustration, Thorin turned back toward the woods. He could find Bilbo at least... He had a clue on where the hobbit had gone; Bofur had indicated that their little burglar had gone off this way. At the very least, the two of them could be lost together. Finding him seemed more important than rejoining himself with the other dwarves. He couldn't leave the hobbit all alone in the woods, after all. Just because he had never promised Bilbo's safety didn't mean he wouldn't at least try to keep the gentle little hobbit from harm.

"Burglar!" he yelled out as he stormed into the woods, pounding his boots angrily against the forest floor as he got himself even further lost from his company, "Mister Baggins!" he growled, "if you are nearby, reveal yourself this instant!" he demanded. There came no answer.

Thorin felt his hands clench into fists. What kind of a forest was this? The dwarf continued stomping along in a straight line, hoping Bilbo's phantom light had been in this direction. Gradually, his pace slowed as he realized just how hopeless this was. Bilbo probably hadn't even gone this way. Bofur had seemed so confused... The dwarf likely hadn't even seen the hobbit or heard him mention a light. It was most probably a trick of Bofur's mind.

It was a pitiful feeling Thorin felt now. A feeling of regret and sickness. Would he ever see the hobbit again? Had they lost their burglar for good just now? If Thorin couldn't even find himself in the woods, how was he expected to retrieve a tiny little hobbit? And what would become of the poor little creature? Would he eventually find his way out? Be rescued by some other kind soul who happened upon him by chance? Or would he be found by something more sinister? Perhaps he would just remain lost and slowly starve to death. Thorin swallowed as he stared angrily out into the mist. He didn't want their hobbit to suffer a cruel end. Bilbo had been so brave to agree to come along on this quest; he didn't deserve to be lost and forgotten. Knowing that he may not ever know the end to Bilbo's story made Thorin's heart heavy, and made him want to swear. It caused him to wish to curse the entire forest for taking his burglar from him.

Just as he was about to start throwing things in anger, Thorin heard something which caused his ears to perk up. It was a very small sound, a sound so faint he wasn't even certain he'd heard it at first. He listened closer. There was certainly some sort of commotion going on in the woods. He could plainly hear it, no matter how quiet it was, and it wasn't just the creaking of tree limbs or any other sound of nature. It sounded like some sort of whimpering or crying.

Thorin narrowed his eyes and stared off into the distance, trying to see any indication that the hobbit was nearby. He still only saw trees, vines, and mist, but the sound continued, so he did his best to follow it. He couldn't see Bilbo, but he could hear him, and that was the best he could hope for at the moment, "Burglar?" he called out as he made his way toward the sound, "is that you?" It had to be...

"Thorin?" the hobbit's frantic voice called back, very faint, but audible enough, "where are you?"

The dwarf had never heard Bilbo's voice sound so scared, "keep talking to me, Mr. Baggins," Thorin instructed as he quickened his pace. He wanted to feel relief, but Bilbo's tiny, panicked voice made him worry even more. He hoped the hobbit wasn't hurt, "I think I'm getting near you. Keep talking to me, Mr. Baggins."

"I can't," Bilbo sobbed.

"Yes you can," Thorin followed his voice, "keep talking."

All he heard as a reply were soft sobs.

"Where are you, Burglar?" Thorin asked, "what do you see around you?" He didn't doubt that Bilbo wouldn't be able to give a descriptive answer that would distinguish his location from the rest of the woods, but he needed to keep the hobbit speaking so he could continue to follow the sounds of his frightened voice.

"I see," he began, "trees..." he sobbed again.

Thorin could tell he was getting close, but still couldn't see Bilbo, "can you still hear me, Burglar?" he asked as he walked closer and closer to the sound, which now included an occasional sniffing, likely the hobbit holding back tears.

"Thorin?" Bilbo called out in a small voice.

The dwarf quickened his pace to a jog just as soon as he saw the hobbit's small figure through the trees. Bilbo was on the ground, curled in on himself, and seemingly crying. Thorin ran up to him, kneeling next to him, putting a hand softly on the hobbit's shaking shoulder, and assessing his condition.

"Are you hurt?" he wondered, pulling the hobbit carefully but urgently up off the ground so that he was sitting up. He imagined the halfling was simply scared. Thorin didn't even know how long poor Bilbo had been separated from the others. It hadn't seemed like long, but this woods had a habit of turning minutes into hours. It wouldn't have been the first time Thorin completely lost track of time in this wretched place. The poor little hobbit could have been lost for hours by now, which would explain his fear, but any number of strange creatures in these woods could have sneaked up on him and attacked him too. The hobbit's tears could have just as easily been a result of injury. Thorin needed to be sure he was physically okay.

Bilbo stared up at him with impossibly huge eyes, which were brimming with tears as he gasped in quick, frantic breaths.

"Bilbo?" Thorin asked, furrowing his brow as he let his eyes scan over his burglar. He saw no injuries, but that didn't mean there weren't any present. Bilbo seemed so upset, "are you hurt?" he repeated himself, "you must tell me."

The hobbit breathed in and out frantically, clawing at Thorin's arms with his small hands as though scared the dwarf might vanish if Bilbo didn't keep a hold of him. The hobbit's fumbling fingers continued to grab at Thorin's coat until the dwarf gripped his elbows to keep him steady, "Thorin," Bilbo's voice trembled as he stared into the dwarf's eyes. Thorin could feel that Bilbo's hands were shaking as they grasped at his sleeves, "I can't breathe," Bilbo sobbed.

Thorin frowned and let his eyes quickly scan over the small, panicking hobbit again. Had he inhaled some sort of poison from one of the strange plants in the woods? What was wrong with him? "What happened, Bilbo?" Thorin asked, looking the hobbit in the eyes as he put one of his hands on Bilbo's cheek, "did something attack you? Did you come across anything strange? Any odd plants which may have poisoned you? What's keeping you from breathing properly?"

"No," Bilbo gasped for air again, "No plants... I just stopped breathing," he sobbed, "out of nowhere. I just stopped."

"You're breathing, Bilbo," Thorin assured him, grabbing the hobbit's hand in his own and pressing it to his small chest, "feel for yourself," Thorin, with his hand over Bilbo's on the hobbit's chest could feel that the small fellow was in fact breathing, even though his breaths were frantic, and probably not filling his lungs as completely as a good breath should. Even so, his chest was rising and falling, if only a small bit with each quick, panicked breath.

"No," Bilbo cried as he attempted to pull his hand out of Thorin's grip, "I can hear my breaths, but they're not there. I thought I was breathing, but I'm not," he sobbed as he continued breathing in and out so fast that Thorin worried he might just cause himself to faint. This looked more like a panic attack than anything else. Perhaps being lost had just scared the hobbit that much.

"Calm down," Thorin urged, putting his hand back on Bilbo's face and staring into his eyes, "you're still breathing," he promised, "you just need to calm down. Try to take slow breaths, Bilbo."

The hobbit sobbed again, "I can't. I can't take slow breaths. I can't take any breaths. Thorin, I'm not breathing," he persisted as his breaths became more and more frantic by the second, "I haven't taken in a breath in minutes and minutes. I'm going to die," he sobbed, "I can hear my breaths so loudly all around me, and they aren't there. I only hear an exhale. An exhale or nothing. I can't breathe in, Thorin! I can't..." the hobbit's voice was getting softer and softer the more he spoke. Bilbo was certainly capable of breathing, but he clearly didn't think he was, and his panic was going to end up causing him to pass out if he didn't get a hold on himself soon, "I can't inhale... I'm not breathing, Thorin..." Bilbo gasped in a tiny voice as he trembled and his eyelids fluttered.

"Yes, you are!" Thorin all but yelled, "Bilbo, listen!" with that, everything grew silent except for Bilbo's rapid breaths, "you're going to cause yourself to faint if you don't calm down," Thorin threatened, "do you hear those breaths? That breathing that's coming ten times faster than any normal breathing should?"

Bilbo paused for a moment, staring up at Thorin with huge, tear-filled eyes before finally nodding, "yes," he gasped between pained-sounding breaths, "is that you? Thorin, why are you breathing so hard?"

"That's you, Bilbo," Thorin informed him, putting the hobbit's hand back over his own rapidly rising and falling chest, "you're panicking. You're hyperventilating."

A look of understanding fell over Bilbo's features as the hobbit looked down at his own chest.

"You're okay," Thorin reminded him again.

"I am..." Bilbo's breaths slowly evened out as he glanced around the clearing. He focused back on Thorin, taking a few more steady breaths and blinking in confusion.

"Yes," the dwarf nodded, "you're alright," Thorin assured him again, squeezing his hand gently. The dwarf's hand remained on the hobbit's, which was still pressed against Bilbo's now more steadily rising and falling chest, "just keep breathing, slow, calm, steady breaths. You're fine now."

Thorin kept his eyes focused on the hobbit, who sat in front of him on the ground as the dwarf tried to get a good read on his burglar. It seemed the forest had somehow fooled him, in a much more cruel way than just getting him lost. Bilbo looked so confused, with tear stains down his cheeks and his wide eyes staring up at Thorin who was still knelt down in front of him. Bilbo still seemed a bit shocked, as he made no move to shrug his hand out of Thorin's grip or to stand up. He simply stayed where he was, sitting on the ground and staring at Thorin. He was breathing much more evenly now though, "where is everyone?" Bilbo wondered, wiping his tears away with his sleeve and looking around the clearing once more.

Thorin shrugged, "I don't know," he admitted, "the woods seems to want us separated."

Bilbo frowned, "I thought I saw a light," he told the dwarf - so Bofur hadn't misinformed Thorin after all, "but I went toward it, and then I lost it... and then I could swear I wasn't breathing. I can't understand what I was thinking. I knew I was breathing... I mean... I know how to breathe, right?" he offered a slight laugh, "but I couldn't hear my breaths..." he shook his head and blinked as though no longer certain what he was even saying, "I don't know..."

The dwarf nodded. There was no use trying to make sense of any of it. These woods didn't make sense, and could not be defined, "Shall we find the others?" he suggested, standing and offering his hand down to Bilbo.

The hobbit took his hand and stood, "I hope you know which way you came from," Bilbo groaned, "because I haven't the foggiest idea."

Thorin frowned. At this point, he couldn't be sure...

_**xxxxxx**_

_**Please review. :)**_


	3. Out of the Woods

_**Hullo again, everyone. Thank you for all the lovely reviews. I'm glad people are liking this story so far. I hope you continue liking it. Here's the next chapter:**_

_**xxx3xxx**_

Bilbo followed close behind Thorin as the dwarf attempted to lead them out of the forest. Among the twisted trees, there seemed to be a sort of path, which they were presently walking on, but it didn't really look like the same path they had been following when they first entered Mirkwood. This path was dirt, and may have not even been an actual path at all. As far as Bilbo could tell, it could have easily simply been a natural, worn down area along the forest floor, and nothing more. He knew for sure that it wasn't the elf-path they had been following earlier. That path was more clear. This one was very questionable.

The hobbit forced himself to drag his feet along as he made sure to keep his eyes on Thorin. The last thing he wanted was to be lost again. It didn't really seem like Thorin knew where he was going, but just being with someone else was enough to make Bilbo feel a lot better about the situation. There are few feelings worse than the feeling of being all alone and completely and utterly lost, so he was perfectly content walking behind Thorin now, even if they weren't necessarily making any progress. For now he was just relieved to have been found and reunited with someone he knew.

He hoped the two of them wouldn't get separated again, because being all alone like that had been terrifying. This whole adventure business was scary enough even when he was with everyone else. He wasn't sure if he could handle being lost from everyone again, especially not in these horrible, confusing woods. Hobbits tended to have a good sense of direction, typically, but that didn't seem to apply here in Mirkwood. Presently, the hobbit had no idea which direction he was even walking in. He couldn't find the sun in the sky, and his ordinarily present ability to luckily guess which way he had come from or was trying to get to was very much absent now. If Bilbo got lost in these woods again, he might never see Thorin, the others, or the Shire ever again, and he certainly didn't want that to happen.

As they walked along, the hobbit had to fight the urge to grab onto the back of Thorin's coat and hold onto it as they traversed the forest, as he knew any number of strange factors could play a part in distracting him and getting him lost once more. But he figured Thorin might be annoyed by that, so he didn't hold onto the dwarf, and simply tried to pay as much attention to his surroundings as he could. Surely if he just focused on walking behind the dwarf and refused to follow any more misleading lights, he'd be fine.

"There's got to be an end to these woods," Thorin grumbled as he dragged his feet along in front of Bilbo, "I believe we're going east. If we just keep going in the same direction, we've got to find the end eventually. Hopefully the others have made it out and we'll reunite on the other side of the forest."

Bilbo agreed, but didn't say anything. He felt so tired, and still somewhat embarrassed for having panicked in front of Thorin earlier. He couldn't quite explain how it was that he had thought he wasn't breathing back in the clearing, even when he most certainly was, but he couldn't explain anything about this place. Thorin didn't seem to think less of him for his strange panic attack, so Bilbo didn't mention it again either. Hopefully they could just forget about it. Hopefully Gandalf and the other dwarves would never know that their burglar had behaved so foolishly.

"Do you suppose it's been long since we lost the others?" Bilbo wondered as he dragged his feet tiredly behind Thorin, "perhaps we can call out to them," he suggested.

Thorin shrugged, "I cannot keep track of time in this place, but I haven't heard a thing from any of them, even when I was shouting and searching for you. I lost them several minutes before I found you. They didn't respond to my calls then, and I doubt they'd respond now. I'm betting they are long gone."

"I was shouting for everyone before as well," Bilbo told him, "I followed that light and became frantic when I turned around and couldn't find anyone. I yelled out to you, and Balin, and lots of the others. No one heard me. Well, you did eventually. It seemed like ages though. I'd nearly given up on being found by then. You're probably right though. They've all likely kept walking, and are far, far closer to the end of this woods than we are."

"Yes. I'm sure they're long gone, hopefully gone in the correct direction, but either way they're together," Thorin offered, "as are we. As long as both groups make it out, we can worry about reuniting later."

Bilbo nodded, "I sort of wish the eagles would have taken us all the way to the Lonely Mountain. Maybe we should have told them that's where we were going. Perhaps they would have taken us and saved us a lot of time," he mumbled, mostly to himself, "though this isn't really their quest, and it's a long journey even for a giant bird."

"They had no obligation to help us at all," Thorin noted, "we were lucky they agreed to come to our aid when we were in dire need."

"That's true," Bilbo agreed, "they already saved our lives once. Can't ask for much more than that," he sighed and continued on, looking down at his feet as he followed behind Thorin. He frowned when it looked like his feet were walking backward again, regardless of the fact that he was sure his legs were moving forward.

With a panicked gasp, he attempted to move faster, staring down at his feet in bewilderment as they only moved faster in the wrong direction. If he kept moving backwards, he was going to be lost again, but he couldn't seem to move forwards! Before he could call out for Thorin's help, he found he had ran into the dwarf's back, hard enough to cause himself to fall back. Bilbo then found himself on the ground, with Thorin staring down at him, "slow down," Thorin warned as he arched an eyebrow.

"I-" Bilbo began to explain, with much confusion lacing his words, "I thought... I was... walking backwards... I looked down at my feet for a moment," he paused, knowing he sounded ridiculous, but still feeling compelled to explain himself, "they looked like they were moving in the wrong direction... I panicked."

The hobbit expected Thorin to yell at him then, to tell him to watch where he was going, to tell him to stop being a fool, but the dwarf did not. Instead, Thorin narrowed his eyes, and offered a very small smile, "I'm eager to be rid of this forest," he laughed, offering his hand down to Bilbo and helping him to his feet, "It's maddening, is it not?"

Bilbo offered a dry laugh as Thorin helped him up, "it most certainly is," he agreed with a smile.

"Stay close," Thorin instructed, "And don't watch your feet while you're walking. Just focus on following me."

The hobbit nodded and began to follow after the dwarf once more, but quickly came to a halt when he heard a noise, a noise which sounded an awful lot like a breeze, "Thorin," he whispered, "do you hear that?"

The dwarf paused as well, "it's wind," he noted when he heard the sound Bilbo had been speaking of.

Bilbo was relieved that Thorin heard the sound too. That meant it wasn't simply in his own mind. If Thorin heard the same thing, it must have been real, "it's to the right, it seems," the hobbit noticed. Up until recently, there had been virtually no sound in the forest. The wind was most likely outside of the trees. It meant they were nearing the forest's edge.

"This way!" Thorin spoke excitedly, "I don't care if we're near the other side or back where we started. I just want out of this place."

Bilbo nodded as he followed the dwarf. He couldn't have agreed more.

They quickly made their way toward the sound of the breeze. Just knowing he would soon be out of this stuffy, horrible forest filled Bilbo with relief. The thought of breathing fresh air and even feeling the wind against his skin caused a grin to spread across his face as he trotted after Thorin. Hopefully the others had followed the same sound, and they'd meet them as soon as they exited the forest.

It turned out half of Bilbo's hopes were fulfilled. They indeed found the edge of the forest, but the others were not there waiting for them.

"Where are we?" Bilbo wondered as he staggered out of the forest and onto the rocky terrain. He threw himself onto the ground, spreading his arms out and breathing in the fresh oxygen. Now that they were out of the woods, everything was instantly more clear, and the air felt infinitely less heavy.

The hobbit found he didn't really care all that much where they were. He wanted to find the others of course, but just being out of the woods, where the air was light and fresh was delightful. Bilbo wanted to just go to sleep, right here on the rocky ground. He didn't care that he didn't have a blanket or that the air about him was chilly. He was just so relieved to see the sky again, and to not feel weighed down by his own confusion.

Thorin followed him onto the rocks, also seeming relieved to have made it out of the woods. Instead of rolling around on the ground like the hobbit did, however, Thorin looked up at the sky in an attempt to find the sun, "we're too far north," the dwarf shook his head as he looked about himself, "this won't do at all. We've still got to make it around most of the forest. This is why we originally chose to go through it..."

Bilbo winced, "we're not going back in are we?"

The dwarf sighed heavily, "it would likely be counter-productive," he admitted, "it's not a short cut when we spend so much time lost, backtracking, and going in circles."

"Exactly," Bilbo smiled, glad to know Thorin wasn't going to make him go back into that terrible place. He was not at all a fan of losing his mind, which is exactly what the forest was doing to him.

"Then we'll keep to the edge for now, and try to make good time," Thorin suggested, "though we may need to cut through the forest eventually, it's probably best to keep outside of it for the time being. There's no use getting lost again. Hopefully the others won't mind waiting a few days for us to catch up... If they even make it out, that is."

Bilbo frowned. He hadn't considered that the other dwarves may remain lost in the woods forever. Surely they'd stumble upon an exit eventually.

"Let's get going," Thorin ordered, "if we're going to make up for going around instead of through the forest, we're going to need to keep moving, rest maybe four hours per night, but walk the remainder. I assume the others will stay in the forest, in order to make good time. We will have to sacrifice our rest if we want to avoid the forest."

Bilbo groaned, "will we stop for lunch?" he wondered.

"Dinner is enough, and you'll have your breakfast," Thorin told him, "if you can find anything edible out here, that is."

"We don't have anything?" Bilbo frowned as he felt his shoulders slump. He felt half-starved already. He had been looking forward to stopping for a meal at some point.

Thorin shrugged, "I didn't expect all of us to end up separated. I believe Bombur was carrying most of the food."

"Alright," Bilbo sighed loudly, "I'll find something," he followed behind Thorin as the dwarf began walking along the edge of the trees. As they walked, Bilbo kept his eyes open for any sort of edible plants, "do you think there are any streams nearby? Streams with fish?" Bilbo wondered.

Thorin shrugged, "probably. Though we haven't got time for fishing. This is no vacation. We must make haste."

"You'll find I'm a surprisingly fast fisher-hobbit," Bilbo beamed, "find me a stream, and you'll see. Won't take me but five minutes. Ten, tops."

Thorin laughed, "if we come across a stream, you can try, but I'm holding you to your word. We'll stop for ten minutes maximum."

Bilbo smiled. He hoped they found a stream at some point, because his stomach had been growling ever since before they entered the forest. This whole skipping entire meals business was quite foreign to him, and he didn't like it one bit. The hobbit's ordinary routine of having six meals per day, now cut down to two, or one, or even sometimes zero was not working for him at all.

Bilbo kicked a small pebble along as he followed Thorin, until he found the dwarf was making progress much faster than he was. Kicking the pebble was slowing him down, so he abandoned it and scampered after his companion.

"You are nearly running," Bilbo panted as he trotted up beside Thorin, "there's no point in making quick time considering the others are probably still lost. We'll just end up having to wait for them anyway."

"We don't know if they've found the path again, and I do not want to keep them waiting if they've somehow managed to reach the woods' end before we do. There's no need to dawdle," Thorin reminded him, "try to keep up."

_**xxxxxx**_

_**Please leave me a review, if you'd be so kind, dears. :)**_


	4. Shadow-weed

_**Quickly, before we start, I always feel I should say a special thank you to everyone out there who is reading. I've been having so much fun creating this story and compulsively re-reading and revising it, and to have people out in the world legitimately interested in reading it makes me so happy. I love you guys, and I'm loving all the previous reviews you all leave for me. They make my day, so thank you for coming back for the next chapter, and thank you for all the reviews I've been given thus far. They are so great! :D**_

_**I hope you like this next chapter as well. Here you go:**_

_**xxx4xxx**_

Bilbo sighed loudly as he allowed himself to dramatically collapse onto the ground. Closing his eyes, he focused on the feeling of the evening's chill air and of the cold, smooth stone underneath him. Bilbo could tell he was going to be cold tonight, especially considering Thorin likely wouldn't want to have a very large fire out here in the open. He felt the stony ground with his fingertips as he lay there, and as he finally was afforded the opportunity to give his aching legs and feet a much-needed rest. Bilbo always felt safe and content when he was near the ground, and he certainly felt grateful for this long overdo rest. The dwarf's pace wasn't exactly an easy one to keep up with, so of course Bilbo was more than exhausted.

After several seemingly endless hours of brisk walking, at a pace which rarely slowed for anything, Thorin had finally agreed to stop for the night, and they still hadn't found anything for dinner - not a single thing. They'd found no streams, ponds, or lakes, so Bilbo hadn't even gotten the chance to show Thorin his fishing skills, and outside of the forest, where they were now, was so rocky that very few plants seemed to want to grow here. Bilbo didn't see a single plant he wanted to try eating on the barren, rocky terrain. In fact, the plants among the stones were mostly dried up grasses, and even they were few and far between. So looking for edible plants outside of the forest had been unsuccessful, and Bilbo hadn't dared venture back into the woods to search for food there, especially not with Thorin moving so quickly in front of him. If he had gotten distracted even for a moment, he may have very easily lost track of the dwarf. So he couldn't search the forest for edible plants, and there certainly weren't any outside of the woods. That left nothing at all for dinner, which was a terribly disappointing feeling, especially for a hobbit.

It was dark by now - in fact, it had been for hours. They'd been walking by the light of the moon for longer than the hobbit could even say. Bilbo was so tired, and very happy they'd finally stopped walking. Hie legs and feet ached, he was exhausted, and very hungry. He was torn between wanting to curl into a fall as near to Thorin's fire as he dared and sleep as long as possible, and wanting to persist in his attempts to find something to eat. If Thorin was only allowing one small four-hour rest, Bilbo would scarcely have time to find dinner, cook it, eat it, and sleep, even though he so much wanted to do all of those things.

"I'll work on making a fire," Thorin offered, "we'll keep the light to a minimum tonight, as always. I don't know what's wandering out in these lands, and don't care to find out. I'm not confident you're going to find anything edible around here, but you're welcome to try, if only you stay nearby. I don't want you getting lost again, especially looking for food that's probably not there. At the very least, we still have our canteens."

Bilbo was grateful for that. They had water, even if they hadn't any food. Water was better than nothing, though it wouldn't quell the rumbling in Bilbo's stomach. But maybe he could remedy that, if he just searched hard enough. There were lots of edible plants in the world, and though some of these non-shire plants were a mystery to him, he was usually quite good with identifying which plants were good to eat and which weren't. He forced himself to sit up as he peered off toward the forest. There was so much vegetation there. It was a woods, of course, not a field or garden, but there was certainly more plant life within Mirkwood than out here on the stones.

"If you go into the forest, don't go in more than a yard or so," Thorin warned him as he glanced in Bilbo's direction, "It may be easy to forget what that woods is capable of. It demands to be taken seriously. Do not go in if you don't have to, and if you do go in, keep very close to the edge. Remember how easily you got separated from the others before."

The hobbit frowned, watching as Thorin collected some broken branches from the edge of the woods. The moon shone bright tonight, which was quite fortunate. Bilbo could at least see... somewhat. He dragged his tired body up off the ground and yawned, "I'll have a quick look near the edge," Bilbo spoke, "I won't stray too far or be gone too long. If I don't find something soon, I'm just going to give up and go to sleep."

Thorin offered a slight laugh as he smiled sympathetically toward Bilbo, "good luck."

Bilbo frowned and kicked a small pebble so that it skittered across the stone ground and into the trees, "Gandalf warned me I'd have to go without many things during this quest," he grumbled, "I just never figured food would be one of them."

Thorin shook his head and shrugged as he collected some more small fallen branches.

With that, Bilbo began walking along the edge of the woods, squinting carefully into the foliage as he searched for any sort of berries or leaves that he knew. After a few minutes of walking along the edge, and of a quite literally fruitless search, Bilbo stopped, sighed, and put his hands on his hips with frustration, looking up and glaring into the forest, "you are quite useless," he said to the trees, but just when he was preparing to turn and leave, to finally give up completely on dinner, he noticed something off in the trees. It was something red, which usually meant fruit.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes. It wasn't as close to the edge as he would have liked. Thorin told him not to go more than just barely into the woods. Getting to the mystery fruit would require going into the woods maybe ten or so yards. But it was right there... If he could see the fruit from outside the forest, surely he could see the outside of the forest from where the fruit was.

Glancing back toward Thorin, Bilbo noted that the dwarf was not paying attention to him. His eyes were on the fire he was constructing. The hobbit bit his lower lip. Thorin might be angry with him if he went off into the trees after being specifically told not to, but the dwarf would be happy if Bilbo brought back food, and the hobbit wanted so much for Thorin to see him as useful... Besides, if Bilbo was correct, and he was able to get into the woods and back out quickly and easily, Thorin would never need to know where exactly the fruit came from.

So he began tip-toeing into the trees, slowly, and always looking over his shoulder to make sure the woods didn't swallow him up. The faint glow of Thorin's growing fire was over his left shoulder. As long as he could still see that, he'd know he wasn't lost.

It wasn't long before he reached the spot where he had seen the red color, but as soon as he reached it, he was immediately disappointed. Bilbo took a small sprig of the plant in his hand. It was covered in quite a few small red berries, but they weren't anything he and Thorin could make supper out of. He knew these berries. They were poisonous. Bilbo's shoulders slumped as he let the plant fall out of his hand. Maybe he should just give up and go back to their camp. He was wasting his precious time, time when he could be sleeping, chasing after fruit or leaves that Mirkwood did not have to offer him. Perhaps sleep was all he could hope for tonight.

Bilbo was just about to turn around and abandon the hope of finding dinner when he noticed something else, just a few yards further into the woods. He squinted into the darkness. This time what he noticed was a darker purple color, almost black. He narrowed his eyes, trying to determine what exactly it was that he was looking at, and then quickly found himself grinning. Those looked just like blackberries, and there were a whole lot of them!

So without a second thought, he walked toward them and knelt down in front of the bush. They were definitely blackberries; Bilbo could recognize them anywhere. He plucked one from the bush and popped it into his mouth. It tasted so much sweeter than he ever thought it would. With a smile and a small laugh, Bilbo began plucking more of the berries, filling his pouch to the brim with them. Thorin would be so proud.

When he was content that he could carry no more, he plucked about six more, popping them into his mouth one by one and enjoying their sweetness. Then he turned back toward the campsite.

His smile immediately disappeared and his eyes grew wide when, upon turning around, he did not see any indication of either Thorin's fire, or of the edge of the woods. Everywhere he looked, he only saw trees, that and darkness. Even the moon seemed to have abandoned him when he needed it most.

The hobbit felt himself beginning to panic, a feeling that was becoming all too familiar to him as of late. He couldn't have gone more than twelve or thirteen yards into the woods. How could he have gotten lost again? "Thorin?" Bilbo's shaking voice called out as he glanced nervously around himself. He squinted into the darkness, but still saw nothing he recognized, "Thorin!" he almost yelled.

He could almost swear he heard a faint answer, but couldn't be sure.

"Thorin!" Bilbo called again, walking cautiously in the direction he thought he had come.

The response was so quiet... Quiet enough, in fact, that Bilbo was still not certain it was even there. Was that Thorin calling his name? Or was that the wind? Or perhaps nothing at all?

Poor Bilbo didn't know what else to do, so he began running toward the faint sound. If it was Thorin, the hobbit didn't want to miss the chance to find him, so he followed the sound, quite frantically, all the while yelling out the dwarf's name and struggling to keep himself calm.

With a shocked yelp, Bilbo found himself suddenly falling forward as his foot snagged on a root, and all at once he was tumbling down a hill, which he didn't remember even going up in the first place. He cried out as he landed, catching himself very hard on his wrist, "Thorin!" he cried out again in a pained whimper as he sat up and cradled his arm in his other hand, "where are you?"

Just then, everything seemed much clearer to the hobbit. Looking to his right, he could see the rocky terrain that made up the outside world. He could even see the glow of Thorin's fire, though it was further away now than he would have guessed it should be. And Thorin was running up to him, looking quite concerned as he stared down at the hobbit.

"Bilbo!" Thorin exclaimed, "I told you to stay out of the forest!"

Bilbo frowned, but didn't know what to say. Nothing he did ever worked out how it was supposed to.

"Come along," Thorin held out his hands to Bilbo, "perhaps you and I need to stick closer together," he suggested, grabbing the hobbit's hands in his own and pulling him up to his feet.

Bilbo nodded as he accepted Thorin's help. It was only when it was too late that he realized using the hand he had caught himself with when he fell was a horrible idea. As soon as Thorin pulled him up to his feet, a sharp pain shot through his wrist and arm.

When Bilbo cried out in pain and flinched away from the dwarf's hand, Thorin looked at him with confusion in his features, "what's wrong?" he wondered.

"I landed on my wrist when I fell," Bilbo pouted, looking down at his arm with a grimace, "I may have broken it..."

Thorin sighed and seemed to have to put extra thought into not rolling his eyes, "I'll look at it back out by the fire," he suggested, putting his hand on Bilbo's back and turning him back toward their camp.

"I'm sorry, Thorin," Bilbo frowned. The dwarf was so good at making him feel like a fool. Right about now, Bilbo felt a lot more like a nuisance than an asset on this quest. He'd had his moments of success, but maybe all that was over. Maybe he'd only make things more complicated from here on out. Perhaps any respect Thorin had for him was all but gone by now. Bilbo had proven his loyalty once, and now he was proving that he was a failure, and a liability, something small, weak, and absent-minded, who always got lost and always got hurt and who was a constant source of worry and extra work for the dwarves, and for Thorin in particular, at least now since the two of them were alone together.

"It's okay," Thorin assured him, though he still had a hint of annoyance in his voice. The dwarf kept a tight but still gentle hold on Bilbo's uninjured arm and his other hand on the hobbit's back as he led him out of the woods, likely fearing not holding on to him would mean his burglar getting lost again. Thorin led him to the fire and sat him down next to it.

It was then that Bilbo remembered the blackberries, "Oh!" he started, "I found berries!" He moved to untie his pouch and reached his fingers carefully inside, "blackberries to be precise. Hopefully I didn't squash them when I fell-" he paused when he looked down at his hand. The berries he was pulling out of the pouch were not the blackberries he saw before, "Oh..." Bilbo frowned, "I- Never mind... I don't know what these are. They looked like blackberries before. I swear it."

Thorin peered over at the berries, "I wouldn't eat those if I were you," he warned.

Bilbo's eyes widened. He had already eaten seven, "why not?"

"Looks like shadow-weed," Thorin noted, "those berries are poisonous."

"How poisonous?" Bilbo squeaked.

"Depends on how many you eat, I suppose," Thorin explained as he narrowed his eyes as if trying to read Bilbo's expression, "I don't think they'd kill you unless you ate quite a few. I believe they cause mild hallucinations and fever, among other minor nuisances, basically harmless in small doses, but not necessarily something you'd want to endure if you can avoid it," the dwarf explained.

"Oh," Bilbo nodded. If they were basically harmless, he probably shouldn't even mention to Thorin that he had already had a few. The dwarf would likely only laugh. The hobbit had already been lost twice, just today alone, and had fallen on and hurt his own wrist. If Thorin knew he'd poisoned himself too, he'd lose any ounce of respect he still somehow held for his burglar. He might just send Bilbo right back home if the hobbit did one more foolish thing. If the few berries Bilbo consumed would only cause minor symptoms, Thorin didn't ever need to know. Bilbo could just pretend he felt fine until the effects wore off. So the hobbit kept his mouth shut about that, "Well, I swear they looked like blackberries when I was picking them."

"It was the forest playing tricks on you," Thorin guessed as he knelt down in front of the hobbit and took his hand in his own, turning it over carefully and observing his wrist, "it doesn't look broken," the dwarf noted, "You've probably just sprained it."

The hobbit sighed, "the berries weren't far from the edge of the woods," he felt the urge to explain himself, "I suppose I should try to avoid going back into the trees at all."

"I would tend to agree, Mr. Baggins," Thorin raised an eyebrow at the hobbit, "Mirkwood seems to have a worse affect on you than I. It's a dangerous place for anyone, but it really seems to pull you in rather easily. I'd try not to use your arm much if you can avoid it, for a few days at least."

Bilbo nodded. So it seemed there would be no dinner tonight, not unless they wanted to make themselves even more sick than Bilbo was probably already going to be. He supposed he could just go to sleep then. With any luck, in four hours time, any negative effects of the berries would be long gone.

"Do you want first watch or second?" Thorin wondered as he situated his bag and other belongings, seemingly making a sort of pillow for himself.

Bilbo felt his shoulders slump. So he was only going to get two hours of sleep then... That was just great... He bit his lower lip as he thought about the responsibility of keeping watch. It was a huge responsibility. He hadn't ever been put on guard duty by himself. There were usually so many much more qualified people to do it. The only other time Thorin had asked him to keep watch, Bilbo had been so obviously nervous that Bofur had noticed, and had secretly stayed up with him.

"Bilbo?" Thorin asked, "first watch or second?" he repeated.

With a sigh, Bilbo looked back at Thorin, "first, I suppose," he reluctantly agreed. If he had to keep watch, he'd rather get it over with. It wasn't exactly something he was excited about doing, and putting it off might very well keep him from sleeping, as he'd stay up worried over it.

Thorin grinned and clapped him on the arm, "wake me up in two hours."

_**xxxxxx**_

_**Please leave me a review. :)**_

_**A little extra note: "shadow-weed" is something I just made up out of thin air. If it's a real thing, and it's not poisonous, don't get mad. I just thought it sounded like something poisonous that might exist in Middle-Earth, and since I made up the poison's side-effects too, the whole plant is fictitious. I suppose I could have researched more... But I didn't. The plant is called shadow-weed and it is not a reference to any existing plants. That's all. I doubt anyone will really care much about this, but I didn't want to receive any reviews saying anything like "shadow-weed isn't poisonous, you fool!" or "shadow-weed doesn't have berries!" I seriously don't think I've ever heard of such a plant, but I couldn't be bothered to look too far into it. The only results of a quick google search I found were references to some online game(s.) Just don't take any of my make-believe plants too seriously, and we should be fine. ;)**_


	5. An Eventful Watch

_**Good Morning. Thank you for returning, and triple-thank you for each and every review on my previous chapters. I love reviews more than I love life. I've been hesitant to post this chapter because I'm not sure how it will be received. I think it's a great chapter, but I'm worried what all my precious readers will think... I hope you're ready for a long and eventful chapter, and I hope you like it:**_

_**xxx5xxx**_

Bilbo sighed and stood up, stretching his aching legs and arms, which honestly needed no stretching at all, as he looked up tiredly at the night sky. His legs already all but throbbed from overuse and he wanted nothing more than to sit down and rest, but he knew if he stayed seated he might just fall asleep, and he couldn't very well keep watch if he were sound asleep. So he paced quietly around the campsite, keeping a rather nervous watch in all directions. It seemed most animal life preferred to stay away from the forest. Most creatures were probably smart enough to avoid such a strange, horrible place. Besides for the crackling of Thorin's camp fire, Bilbo heard absolutely nothing, which was entirely odd to his ears. No birds, no insects... Nothing. He'd never heard a quieter night.

Was silence alone enough for him to be worried? Did the fact that all other life had vacated the area mean something sinister was near? Bilbo frowned and looked around again. He hated keeping watch. He still didn't rightfully know what he was watching for. Strange noises or sights, yes, but everything out here was strange to him. Thorin would be furious if Bilbo woke him up for nothing. He imagined if he woke the dwarf because he thought things were too quiet, he'd only be rewarded with an angry scowl.

Bilbo peered off into the darkness, doing his best to keep an eye out for anything unusual. The moon still shined dimly in the sky, so he could see, to an extent. There didn't seem to be anything out there worthy of alerting Thorin. He peered out into the woods. There could be any number of strange, dangerous things lurking in there, and Bilbo wouldn't be able to see them until it was too late if they decided to come out toward their camp site. He narrowed his eyes when he thought he saw movement in the shadows. He blinked a few times and stared. He didn't see anything now. He probably never did. It was just his imagination and fears trying to convince him something was out there.

With a sigh, Bilbo closed his eyes for a moment. He was so tired. He looked back toward his companion.

Thorin seemed to be asleep by now, and while the hobbit was very tempted to follow his example, it was Bilbo's duty to keep watch, and he couldn't forego his responsibility. It was only fair... but he was so exhausted, and feeling worse and worse by the minute.

For a while Bilbo had wondered if maybe Thorin had been wrong about the berries the hobbit had found being poisonous. It took nearly half an hour before he began to feel ill, and even then, he wasn't sure if it was all in his head. He had a slight headache and felt cold, but it was always cold at night, and the headache could have been attributed to the stress of being lost from the group and from running on virtually no sleep or food. He found he had headaches an awful lot of the time during this quest, after all. But the longer he waited up, the worse he found he was feeling. Bilbo had suffered through fevers before, and he certainly knew what it felt like to be feverish. If he had to guess, he'd say Thorin was probably quite right about what those berried could do to someone. He felt awful.

Bilbo sat back down and stared at the fire, which was mostly just glowing embers and ash by now. For a moment he thought he saw a spider crawling toward the hot coals. But this spider didn't look quite right. It glowed a bright orange, as though it was a part of the actual fire. That couldn't be... Bilbo blinked his eyes a few times and the spider was gone.

The hobbit narrowed his eyes. Thorin had said one of the affects of the berries was hallucinations. Bilbo laughed softly. That was actually a relief. When Thorin had mentioned hallucinations, the hobbit had feared that might involve horrible monsters or ghosts of some sort. Seeing a false, tiny, little fire-spider wasn't so scary.

Bilbo wrapped his arms around himself as he shivered. He wasn't sure if any night of their adventure thus far had been as cold as this one.

With a groan, Bilbo stood up again. He should probably collect some more branches to keep the fire going. Of course, he wouldn't go into the woods to do so. If the branches weren't at least partially outside of the forest, they'd just not be collected tonight. Bilbo had gotten lost in that forsaken forest for the last time.

So he began walking along the edge of the forest, collecting sticks as he went. Unfortunately, it seemed most of the larger fallen tree limbs weren't right on the edge where he would have preferred them. He would just have to settle on using the small sticks to keep their little fire going. He supposed it was just as well, considering Thorin didn't like having large fires out in the open like this anyway. That, and he couldn't carry much with his hurt wrist.

Bilbo walked further along, picking up a few more small sticks. Maybe he could just spend the next hour and a half collecting sticks so Thorin wouldn't have to. It would keep him from falling asleep, which would ensure he would be able to stay alert and keep watch over their surroundings. But the more he walked, the more he wanted to lie down. He almost felt nauseous.

The burglar looked up as a large patch of clouds passed over the moon. Now he could barely see anything. Squinting into the darkness, he bent down and picked up another stick. At least they weren't camping out in the middle of the rocks, far from the woods. At least there were some branches, even if they were few and small.

He walked along further, bending down to collect sticks here and there until he had an entire arm full. Both arms-full, actually, though he was careful to keep most of the weight of his collection off his injured wrist. As he prepared to turn back, he noticed everything was suddenly illuminated a bit more than it had been. Bilbo looked up toward the moon, but he couldn't see it. That was odd. Where was the glow coming from then? Perhaps another trick of his mind? Another of the poisonous berries' hallucinations?

It wasn't until it was too late that Bilbo's tired mind understood where that light was coming from. The blue glow was coming from his sword, Sting, and that meant orcs were near.

Trying to hold his collection of sticks in just one arm, Bilbo put his other over hand the small portion of his sword which stuck up over its sheath. He didn't want to be illuminated if there were orcs nearby, but the sword glowed so brightly, and he couldn't exactly cover it up completely. He needed to alert Thorin, and sooner rather than later, before it was too late. He looked back toward the fire, which glowed very faintly now. It looked so far away.

In the other direction Bilbo could swear he saw several shadowy figures. For a moment he felt hopeful. Was it the other dwarves? No... Bilbo winced and nervously took a step back as he realized these figures were much, much too large to be his companions. He swallowed a lump in his throat. The shadows were just as close to him as he was to the fire, and looked to have much longer legs than Bilbo had. Did they see him? Probably... considering the fact that his sword was illuminating him in the darkness.

Carefully and as quietly as he could manage, Bilbo placed his arm-full of sticks on the ground. He had to get back to Thorin, and quickly. Unfortunately, the creatures he saw in the distance weren't so distant now. They definitely saw him, because they were coming right toward him, and at an alarming speed. They looked an awful lot like orcs, which of course explained Sting's glow and terrified the hobbit so much he could barely even think. What should he do? They were moving so quickly! They saw him, and were coming toward him. They would certainly reach Bilbo before Bilbo could reach Thorin...

Bilbo winced and took a step backward, taking Sting from its sheath and squeezing the sword tightly with his uninjured hand. There was no way he was going to make it back to Thorin before being caught, and trying to make it back would only lead the orcs right to him. He couldn't do that to Thorin. So instead of going toward their camp site, he ducked into the trees, keeping close to the edge to be sure the orcs followed him instead of going on toward the sleeping dwarf.

He wasn't sure if he felt relieved or not when he noticed the orcs following him into the woods. Of course he was glad that they weren't going after Thorin, but the problem wasn't exactly solved. Now Bilbo was back in Mirkwood, the forest which had gotten him lost twice, and was presently being followed very closely by what he believed to be at least five orcs, but he certainly didn't have time to stop and count them. And Thorin was asleep with no one keeping watch. Of course Bilbo couldn't forget his splitting headache, the dizziness he felt, or the fact he was shivering either. Maybe he should hope to get lost in the woods this time. At least he wouldn't be killed by the orcs if they couldn't find him.

But Mirkwood seemed to have a cruel sense of humor, and the woods didn't seem to hold the heavy feel of confusion that it had before. For the moment, it seemed like any ordinary woods. That meant there was little hope of him losing these orcs, or of the orcs losing sight of him.

The hobbit groaned as he ran deeper into the forest. He was beginning to feel light-headed as his lungs were over-worked yet again. He knew he should have tried to throw up those berries when he had the chance. Thorin would have thought him a fool, but at least he could have run from these orcs with a clear head.

Bilbo wanted to scream in a panic as he heard and even felt the pounding of the orcs' heavy feet following close behind him. So much, the hobbit wanted to call out to Thorin, but doing so could easily lead to the dwarf being killed. He couldn't drag Thorin into this, even if he was terrified for his own sake. There was no use getting the dwarf killed too.

So Bilbo ran onward, wishing his legs were longer and that he weren't so exhausted, as it seemed the orcs were quickly gaining on him and escape was looking less and less possible. He heard twigs snapping under their heavy feet as they closed in on him. As the hobbit ran under low-hanging branches, the orcs followed closely behind, crushing their huge bodies against the thin tree limbs and breaking them off easily, without a single indication of it being a nuisance for them. Bilbo knew he wasn't capable of fighting off a group of orcs all on his own. One, maybe, if he was lucky... but not a small group of them, and especially not with his head swimming as it was at the moment. He wanted to panic even more when they began shouting after him.

"No use running, little mouse," one of them mocked in a gravely voice. A few of the others laughed at the remark.

"Come back here," another one yelled out with a cruel laugh, "I got somethin' to show ya," the others laughed at that remark too.

The hobbit ignored the taunts as best as he could, considering the orcs were gaining on him and their loud voices rang out all around him. He was so tired, and even more scared. His lungs burned with each frantic breath as he ran faster than he knew he was capable. He felt sick and his entire being ached, but he had to keep running, even as his body protested. Bilbo knew if the orcs caught him, he would be doomed, but it didn't seem like outrunning them was going to be a very real possibility. Nevertheless, he kept running, only finally stopping when somehow one of the orcs had made its way around to his other side, blocking Bilbo's path.

Bilbo stopped in his tracks then, gasping tired breaths and looking around as orcs closed in on him from all directions. He gulped between painful breaths and held onto Sting tightly as he looked around himself. He was more or less surrounded. Maybe he should have called out to Thorin back when he still had the chance. But then, if the orcs didn't know Thorin was out there, the dwarf wouldn't be in danger.

"What are you doing out in the forest all alone, little mouse?" the largest of them questioned him with a cruel smirk as it took a step toward the hobbit.

Bilbo hesitated, "what... are you all doing in the forest?" he asked between breaths, "..all alone...?" he added, closing his eyes for a brief moment in frustration with himself. He couldn't think straight and didn't know how he could possibly talk himself out of this one, but he really wasn't ready to die either. He held Sting fast in his hand, ready to attempt to defend himself as he tried to think of something else to say to keep the orcs listening rather than attacking, "do you live in Mirkwood?" Bilbo's voice shook slightly as he rambled, "I... didn't know anyone lived in the woods..."

His attempt at stalling for time or otherwise changing the subject only resulted in the orcs bursting out into a loud fit of laughter. Maybe Thorin would have heard that at least, and could stealthily come to Bilbo's aid, though the hobbit felt he was fairly far from Thorin's camp fire by this point. The dwarf was likely no longer within earshot. Bilbo's chance at having Thorin hear commotion and come to his aid based on that might have very well been entirely missed. And he couldn't exactly call out and get Thorin involved in all this. Not with a clear conscience. If he could spare his friend, even at his own expense, he was going to do just that.

The hobbit didn't know what to do at this point. He felt so scared. How was he supposed to convince several orcs to just let him go? Orcs were notorious for violence and cruelty. They weren't the sort to be reasoned with, and they weren't the sort that one hobbit, quite unskilled with a blade, could fight off all on his own. So Bilbo simply stood with his sword held tight in his hand, but no doubt looking just as uncertain as he felt.

"Lay down your sword and we won't hurt you, little one," one of the orcs promised with an evil grin spreading across its face, "we just wanna have a harmless chat."

That didn't sound like a promise he could trust, "we can chat... I won't use my weapon if you don't use yours," Bilbo offered, but kept a tight hold on his sword. He needed to be ready to use it if he had to, and it was looking like that was to be the case. These orcs didn't seem to be the type to walk away from the chance to hurt or kill something.

The orcs laughed, "I doubt he knows how to use it anyway," one of them noted as it took a terrifyingly large step forward.

"Stay back," Bilbo warned as he maneuvered Sting so that the weapon was pointed toward the orc which was closing in on him. He tried to keep his voice strong and his hands steady, but that was much easier said than done. Though he wanted to appear unafraid, he couldn't push the fear out of his mind entirely. Being surrounded by orcs wasn't exactly a situation a regular hobbit often found himself in, nor would most hobbits claim to know how to calmly handle such a predicament, "I'm warning you," he added in an attempt to seem more serious in his threats as he did all he could to keep his hands from shaking while he struggled to hold Sting steady.

"You're playing a dangerous game, little mouse," the largest orc growled, "a very dangerous game. You know you can't fight us off, but if you wish to try, we'll be more than glad to play along."

Bilbo shook his head as he took a few steps back, but then remembered that there was an orc behind him as well. He stepped forward again and then turned slowly so he could see what exactly he was dealing with here. It seemed there were six orcs, all of them about twice his size in terms of height, and three or four times his size in terms of muscle, and all of them carrying very sharp-looking weapons.

"As you wish, little mouse," the largest orc, who seemed to be the group's leader shook its head as though disappointed, but smiled as it did so. With that, it lunged toward the hobbit, swinging its own jagged weapon bluntly toward Sting, and knocking it out of Bilbo's hand easily with only one swift motion. Bilbo cried out a soft yelp as the force of the blow knocked his arm harshly backwards. Before he could even think about going after the weapon, the orcs were calling out orders to one-another and grabbing at him with their large, clawed hands, "grab 'im," the orc leader ordered one of his allies.

Bilbo gasped as he was grabbed from behind by another orc, who crushed its rough hand down over his mouth. Bilbo threw his uninjured arm back toward his aggressor, trying to hit the orc with his elbow, anywhere he could, but it quickly grabbed his flailing arm with its other hand before Bilbo could even properly fight back, "what should we do with it?" the rough-handed orc wondered with a laugh as it squeezed Bilbo's arm in it's iron grip, "filet it? Cook it up real nice?" it crushed Bilbo's head back harshly against its own abdomen and held onto him tightly.

The hobbit whimpered under the orc's hard, unforgiving hand, which was nearly suffocating him, as he struggled to plead with his captors, but was entirely unable to speak, and barely able to breathe. He could feel his own heart pounding so quickly that he would have hardly been surprised if it beat right out of his chest. The large, rough hand covering his mouth also covered his nose. In fact, it covered a majority of the hobbit's face, to the point where only his eyes remained visible. Bilbo tried to gasp for breaths, but was mostly unsuccessful. He was beginning to truly panic. These orcs may not have wanted him dead just yet, but if they didn't start being more gentle, they might just end up killing him on accident. Hobbits weren't built to be treated like this.

"Might as well have some fun with it first, eh?" Another orc suggested, moving in front of Bilbo and poking the hobbit roughly in the chest, "make it scream. Make it bleed. What is it anyway? Little human child?" Bilbo nearly scoffed at that remark. Why was he so often mistaken for a child by those who weren't from The Shire? Had no one ever heard of hobbits? He continued to struggle against his captor, using his injured hand now, to pull against the large, rough hand covering his face, until the movement of his sprained wrist caused him to wince in pain. This caught the attention of the orc who had just prodded at his chest. It narrowed its eyes and grabbed at the hobbit's wrist, squeezing it tightly in it's filthy grip.

The hobbit would have cried out audibly if it were possible, but instead his pained gasp only existed as a muffled whimper.

"It's a halfling," the leader spoke with narrowed eyes, looking now at Bilbo and considering him.

"Oi, I heard o' them," one of the orcs added, grabbing a fist full of Bilbo's hair and forcing him to look up at its face. A whole three orcs were holding onto him now. They really needed to learn to keep their filthy hands to themselves. Bilbo winced under the other orc's hand as he stared up into the yellow eyes of the cruel creature grabbing his hair, at its crooked, jagged teeth, as it continued speaking, "sorta like men, but with elf ears, furry feet, an' they stay tiny their whole life."

"Never thought we'd find one of yer kind out in the woods all by 'imself," the orc with its hand still covering Bilbo's mouth spoke.

"But I'm not sure it's out here alone," the orcs' leader noted, "how could it have survived so long, and so far from home? Halfling villages are nowhere near here. In fact, I've never even seen a halfling before now. They don't just wander the world. They aren't travelers. I hear they mostly stay in their safe little holes, like frightened rabbits. So how'd this one end up all the way out here? Where is your company, little mouse?" it spoke then to Bilbo, "tell us what we want to know, and perhaps we won't cut off your fingers, one by one."

The rough-handed orc finally moved his hand off Bilbo's face and down toward his neck so that the hobbit could speak. It wrapped its rough fingers around the halfling's neck, not tight enough to cut off his air supply, but tight enough to scare him, as he knew the large brute could snap his neck or strangle him easily.

Bilbo felt his eyes were impossibly wide. Would they really cut off his fingers if he didn't talk? But he couldn't tell these orcs about the dwarves... Telling them would likely only mean his own death as well as the deaths of his friends. At least keeping quiet would save them, even if he himself suffered great pain for it. It's not like the orcs would likely show him much if any mercy even if he did talk. His options were to keep quiet and be hurt and/or killed for it, or talk, and be hurt and/or killed as well as cause the dwarves to suffer similar fates. The answer was quite obvious. He'd keep the details of his travels to himself, "I haven't got any company," Bilbo lied in a trembling voice at the same time as he attempted to catch his breath.

The rough-handed orc holding onto him grabbed his injured arm away from the other orc who had squeezed the limb moments ago. He twisted Bilbo's arm roughly behind his back, causing the hobbit to cry out as he struggled with futility to pull his hurt limb away from the cruel grip.

"You expect me to believe a weak little thing like you made it all this way on his own?" the leader smirked, "we might not have seen your kind before, in the flesh, but we aren't entirely ignorant of the world around us. You are far, far from home. What business does a halfling have in the forest? And all alone like you are?"

Bilbo shook his head, but kept his lips tightly sealed. The orc holding onto him still had his arm twisted unnaturally behind his back. It really hurt. The hobbit didn't want to give the dwarves away, but he didn't want to tell an obvious lie only to be hurt even worse than he already had been either, so he settled on silence.

"Hand it over to me," the leader spoke to his comrade.

The rough-handed orc shoved Bilbo harshly toward their leader. The hobbit stumbled to his hands and knees, hissing in pain as he caught himself with both of his hands, including, of course, his injured one.

"Make sure he's not got any weapons on 'im," one of the others suggested, "not that it'd really matter," the orcs all began laughing again.

This caused the leader to grab Bilbo roughly, yanking him to his feet and then pulling his bag as well as his jacket off of him and tossing them to the ground near where Sting had landed. Bilbo shivered and wrapped his arms around his middle as soon as his overcoat was gone. He had already been cold even before his coat was taken. It seemed rather than checking the bag or garment for weapons, the orcs decided it would be easier to discard the items all together. There went the possibility of using the ring to escape this. He wished he would have thought of using it sooner, but his coat was entirely out of reach now, as was the ring.

Bilbo held his breath as the orc ran its large hands not-at-all-gently over the hobbit's chest, back, sides, arms, and legs, quickly learning that their small captive was in fact very ill-prepared for a run-in with orcs. The orc stuffed its huge hands into Bilbo's pants pockets, or rather a few fingers, as the hobbit's pockets were small and the orc's hands were huge. The vile creature still came up with nothing. Bilbo wasn't the sort to carry many weapons. He'd only acquired his sword very recently. He had nothing else.

"Not a very wise little thing," the leader laughed as he shoved Bilbo quite unnecessarily harshly to the ground again, "off in the woods all alone... Little halfling's as helpless as a rabbit, and virtually unarmed! All he had of any use was a little sword that was still too big for 'im. Probably doesn't even know how to use it. Whoever left you here, little mouse, must've wanted you dead, to leave you so defenseless."

Bilbo groaned as he dragged himself up off the ground and to his feet. He looked between the orcs, trying to find a big enough space between two of them so that he might dodge his way out of this mess. All he needed was to get to his coat, get the ring out of its pocket, and slip it on. Then he could get back to Thorin and warn him of the orcs.

But that was far easier said than done. Before the little hobbit even had a chance to try to get passed the orcs, he found himself being shoved roughly again. This time he didn't hit the ground, as it seemed his captors were delighting in pushing him back and forth between each other, almost like a cruel, painful game of keep-away.

With a whimper of pain, Bilbo felt himself pushed roughly into the arms of another orc, who slammed him right back in the direction he had come, into the rough hands of yet another of their cruel company. Then he was shoved back harshly again. He closed his eyes as he gave up on trying to regain control of his own body. They shoved him so harshly. He couldn't possibly steady himself long enough to find the chance to run off now. All around himself he heard cruel, taunting laughter as his little body was hurled this way and that. He had already felt dizzy from the affects of the poison berries he had consumed. Being so roughly handled wasn't helping at all.

Bilbo cried out when one of the orcs pushed him particularly hard, sending him directly into the hard ground. Without having enough time to think not to, he caught himself with both hands, even his injured one, which caused a sharp pain to radiate up his arm as he collapsed against the dirt of the forest floor. When none of the orcs made any move to pick him back up after a few moments, the hobbit elected to push himself up off the ground with only his uninjured hand. With a cruel laugh, one of the orcs kicked his arm right out from under him, causing Bilbo to instinctively reach out his other hand to catch himself. He cried out as his sprained wrist caught his weight once more. Bilbo allowed himself to crumple to the dirt floor as he lay motionless, face-down on the ground. There was no use trying to stand. They would only push him down again. As he lay on the ground, breathing heavy, pained breaths, the orcs around him laughed even louder.

"You would not have survived this long on your own," the orcs' leader spoke as he dragged Bilbo up off the ground by his arm, "someone has been keeping you from getting yourself killed. Unfortunately for you, that person, or those people, seem to have left you behind."

Bilbo gulped as he felt the orc's large hands completely circle his upper arms as it lifted him up off the ground and threw him roughly over its broad shoulder. With that, the orcs' leader began taking Bilbo further into the woods. The other five orcs followed behind. As panicked as Bilbo was, he was too scared and exhausted to even struggle as he was carried off.

"You just wait and see what we'll do to you," the orc threatened as it carried him along, "You're quiet now, but that won't last when your fragile little bones snap in my hands. I'll break your tiny body in more ways than you can even imagine. We'll see how quiet you are then. I'll get you to talk... It's up to you how much you want to suffer first."

_**xxxxxx**_

_**Alright... As you may have noticed, the tone of this story is changing a bit with this and the next several chapters. Bilbo is now in a very, very precarious position which won't be as easy to deal with as a sprained wrist or mildly poisonous berries. This story has been a serious one all along, but it gets much more serious from here, for a while at least. I'll try not to let the orcs get too carried away, but they have minds of their own and do whatever their dark hearts desire. I probably don't really need to post any sort of warnings about this, because you know how vile orcs can be, and I included in the original summary of the story that orcs were to be among the dangers in Mirkwood... I just don't want anyone to be upset or overly surprised at seeing our precious little Bilbo treated so poorly. He's a guest of the orcs now, and they aren't going to be great hosts.**_

_**I don't mean to ramble - in short, the trouble Bilbo finds himself in this time is larger than any other he's faced in this story thus far. Don't expect things to go smoothly. Be forewarned. (But know that any trouble I write Bilbo into I will always write him right back out of again.)**_

_**Another short side-note: These orcs are in no way affiliated with any specific, named orcs in any Middle-Earth media. That is, they aren't Azog's cronies or anything like that. They are just some random orcs, doing what orcs do - being needlessly mean for the purpose of their own amusement. They don't know who Thorin is and have no grudge against him. They just like being jerks, so they're trying to figure out who Bilbo is traveling with - only so they can find his companions and so they'll have more people to push around and kill. I never even give any of these orcs names, or much of a back story. They exist only as nameless villains, as that is their purpose. I also refer to them as "it" rather than "he" or "him." I had a long debate with myself whether to give them proper pronouns or not... But they call Bilbo "it" sometimes, so I suppose they can be referred to as "it" too. Tolkien's orcs aren't really ever very human-like... They are more like weapons than anything else. Even the Trolls in The Hobbit could be reasoned with to an extent. Orcs seem to be horrible, and with no convincing them otherwise. I don't know... I mean, it's not like you're meant to identify or sympathize with them... Geeze. You might be interested to know that in a much later chapter of this story Bilbo does have a bit of a moment where he wonders about the morality of orcs though, and whether there are such things as friendly orcs...**_

_**And if you're interested, please give my newest one-shot Hobbit story "The Pony Incident" a read and review. It's a friendship story between Bofur and Bilbo, and it's in desperate need of reviews. I feel like it's kind of being ignored, and that makes me cry. So please read and review it if it's something that interests you.**_

_**Also, please review this chapter. :D**_


	6. Hobbit Fingers

_**Hi. Thanks for the reviews and for returning to see what happens next. **_

_**As I said before, these next few chapters will be a little rough on Bilbo. I'm not into writing extremely violent or graphic things, so I've kept the orcs' brutality to a sort of minimum, but my perception of what is "mildly" violent may be different from yours, so... just... You know... Let's get to it. Here's the next chapter:**_

_**xxx6xxx**_

These orcs seemed to know Mirkwood well enough to know the location of a small cave, outside of which was where Bilbo presently found himself. His captors also seemed to have some sort of a grip over the wood's enchantment, as they hadn't gotten lost even once on their short trek to the cave, nor had they acted confused like the dwarves and Bilbo had. The air in the woods didn't seem so heavy to Bilbo now either of course, which he didn't really understand. It was just his luck that things in Mirkwood would take a break from lunacy only exactly when he would have preferred otherwise.

"Get a fire going," the leader of the group of orcs growled as he shoved one of his companions roughly and threw Bilbo down on the cold, hard ground outside of the cave's entrance. Strangely, the other orc didn't seem to mind his comrade's brutality. Bilbo didn't like it one bit though. He lay motionless on the ground, concentrating on breathing rather than making any futile attempt at escape while he was so closely watched.

Perhaps if he just held still for long enough, he might be forgotten, and could crawl away from the orcs when the time was right. Such things had worked for him in the past. After all, he was small and quiet and quite easily overlooked. That was sort of the reason he was on this quest in the first place, because he was good at seeming invisible. That was much easier accomplished with the aid of his ring though, which he no longer had in his possession. He listened as the orcs around him spoke to each other in rough voices.

"We got time to play around with it?" one of the orcs wondered as it kicked Bilbo in the ribs. The hobbit groaned and rolled over onto his side, curling in on himself and hoping to shield his already sore body from any more pain. They obviously hadn't forgotten his presence yet then...

"Play with it and then cook it up, right?" another orc suggested with a cringe-worthy laugh. "I can make a real nice fire an' smoke 'im over it."

Bilbo shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. Before coming on this quest, he had never put much thought into the possibility of becoming something's dinner. All these horrid creatures threatening to cook him and eat him was entirely new to him, and entirely terrifying. The thought of himself being actually cooked made him feel nauseous. Would they at least kill him first?

"Can I have 'is ears?" one of them wondered. "Bet they'd be chewy, even crispy if cooked right."

"No," their leader growled, "we aren't killing it yet. I'll find us somethin' else to eat tonight, an' you can cook that while I question our little halfling. Shouldn't take me long to hunt somethin' down. Tie our little guest up, nice an' secure, and watch him while I'm gone. If he's dead when I get back, he won't be the only one."

Bilbo cautiously sat himself up and observed the scene around him. Though it was night time, the moon somehow peeked through the thick branches of Mirkwood, so that he could just barely see the things around him. He presently found himself near the mouth of a cave. Several of the orcs were gathering large branches with which to start a fire. The largest orc, the leader, was walking away from the camp, no doubt on his way to hunt something for what was most certainly to be a very disgusting, horrific dinner for the orcs. Bilbo shuddered to think what poor animal the orc might hunt down... Hopefully not a dwarf.

Then the hobbit noticed another orc closing in on him. It held some coils of some sort of cords in its hands. Though Bilbo's instincts told him to struggle, to get to his feet and run as fast as he could, he found himself frozen in fear, only able to cower down slightly as the orc grabbed his hands, forcing them together in front of Bilbo's chest and violently wrapping the cord around his wrists. It then did the same to the hobbit's legs, tightly wounding the cords around Bilbo's ankles before shoving him harshly back against the hard ground.

Bilbo groaned as he hit the ground and remained still, as he had fallen. He shivered, and wished he still had his coat, or at least that his hands were free so he could hug his arms around himself to keep warm. He supposed he probably had a fever from those misleading berries, just as Thorin had warned him. There was nothing he could do about that now, of course...

Shifting his wrists slightly, Bilbo tested the security of the cords around them, finding in fact that they were very tight. He could barely move his wrists against each other at all. He hoped he wouldn't stay tied up like this for too long, as the rough ropes were beginning to cut into his skin, and were certainly causing his sprained wrist to hurt even more than it already had. Still too scared to move, Bilbo looked around himself again, and listened. The orcs were speaking in their own language now. He wondered what they were saying, but supposed it might be better if he didn't know.

They had gotten their fire started by now. Bilbo could just barely feel the heat of it. He wished the fire were closer to him, but without the orcs coming along with it. He felt so cold. The chill, however, was the least of his concerns. He could deal with being cold. He didn't like it, but it was nothing compared to the fear he felt being in the presence of these cruel monsters. They were leaving him alone for the present at least. With his ankles and wrists so tightly bound, the possibility of crawling away didn't seem so likely anymore, but maybe if he just stayed still and quiet, he wouldn't be bothered and, the dwarves, or someone, _anyone_ would find him before the orcs hurt him any more.

Of course, that was too much to hope for. It was only a matter of ten minutes or so since his wrists and ankles had been bound with the rough, biting cords before he felt himself being hauled back up off the ground and into a sitting position. Bilbo shrunk down away from the orc whose hands were on him now as it pushed his back against the trunk of a tree and wrapped another coil of cord around both his chest and the tree, no doubt to keep him in place so they wouldn't have to worry about him getting away... Not that he could get far with his ankles bound so tightly.

"You know, I never really seen a halfling before," the orc spoke as it tied the cords tightly in several knots in front of the hobbit's chest, then moved its hand up to the hobbit's face. Bilbo winced as the orc pinched his ear and squeezed it. "Yer interesting-looking fellows," he noted, "an' ya look like an amusing little thing too," the orc laughed as it put its other hand on Bilbo so that his large palm and long fingers covered a large portion of Bilbo's upper chest, as well as his collar, shoulder, and part of his neck, "very fragile, very tender, but still feisty I'm sure. That's how all the little creatures of the world are though. It's what makes 'em so fun to play with. Weak little things, but still with some fight in them."

Bilbo shrunk down in an attempt to get the filthy hands off him, which only resulted in the orc grabbing him harder. The hobbit could feel harsh nails biting into his shoulder as the orc moved its other hand from Bilbo's ear and onto his face, with four of its claws threatening to puncture the skin on one of Bilbo's cheeks, and the fifth claw on the other.

"You don't seem accustomed to this world. Not the part of it you're in now," the orc noted, "I'm betting where you come from, it's safe for you to stay defenseless, but things are different here. Your soft little body isn't going to fare nicely among us. I'm going to have to show a lot of restraint not to kill you in one, small swing. I could do it, you know. I could kill you so easy. I could kill you right now," the orc tightened its grip around Bilbo's collar for emphasis, so that its nails bit even further into the hobbit's skin. "You should be sure to remember that. Every minute you're not dead is a favor, a mercy from us. Any one of us could kill you so easy, with minimal effort."

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Bilbo tried to pull away again, but the orc held onto him too tightly. "Well, I'd rather you didn't," the hobbit spoke in a nervous, breathless plea. "I can be helpful... I can show you a very nice patch of berries."

The orc let go of Bilbo's face and narrowed its eyes before swatting him across the cheek, causing the hobbit to wince and squeeze his eyes shut. "Some o' the others want to question you, but I personally don't care if you give us information or not," the orc admitted.

"Maybe you could let me go then," Bilbo suggested in a small voice. "I'm really not all that entertaining. Hobbits never are... So you might as well not bother wasting your time. Just let me go, and save yourself and your friends the trouble of a very boring evening."

The orc snarled at him, showing yellowed teeth before balling its hand into a fist and slamming it hard against Bilbo's side. It obviously wasn't buying anything Bilbo was saying. The hobbit winced and tried to curl in on himself as the orc continued, "Yer not getting out of this that easy. But I don't care who you're traveling with, because I can have plenty fun with just you," the orc explained, "can't keep too many prisoners at once anyway. So long as we just have you, we can have our fun, an' not worry about anybody tryin' to escape or retaliating."

Bilbo breathed in shallow breaths, trying to keep himself from crying at the pain in his ribs from the orc's harsh punch. He kept quiet as the orc continued it's threats.

"Yer gonna be questioned. That much is clear, an' there ain't no avoiding it. For some reason he wants to find and kill everyone not on our side. Not like anyone who'd be traveling with you'd be worth our time. Probably all pitiful little rats like yourself. I'm sure the forest'd take care of 'em pretty well," the orc laughed, "so either way, your friends, whoever and wherever they are, are probably gonna wind up dead, and I can promise you that whether you talk or not, I'm gonna make you wish you'd never existed in the first place. There's nothin' you can do."

The hobbit swallowed a lump in his throat. He almost wished the orcs' leader would return, though he knew deep down that he was no safer with any one orc than the next.

"I can't get to the real fun just yet. Certain members of my company want at you first, but there's no reason I can't give you a little taste of what you're in for right now," the orc continued with an evil grin. "Long as you ain't dead when he comes back, no one'll mind."

Bilbo tried to flinch away as the orc reached its clawed hand up to the hobbit's cheek. It put its palm over Bilbo's face so that its fingers reached partially around the hobbit's neck and its thumb was awkwardly over Bilbo's lip, which caused the hobbit to try to turn his face away as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep himself from trembling.

What was the orc going to do to him? Should he call out to he other orcs and alert them that this one was threatening him? It seemed maybe their leader didn't want anyone hurting him just yet, but would the other orcs even care? Would calling out to them possibly do any good? Or perhaps crying out would only draw in an audience, or worse, even more participants in whatever game this orc was planning. He kept his eyes shut and his lips tightly closed as he felt the orc run its hand over his cheek and down to his neck.

"Let's see, now..." it started in a sickeningly excited voice. "What should we do for fun...?"

"Nothing," Bilbo squeaked, "I mean... why not wait?" He felt his body trembling both from feeling cold and from feeling horrified. "I'm actually a little sick at the moment. I'll probably be much more fun for you later... More lively, once I have my wits about me again. I swear, hobbits aren't nearly as fun as you seem to think. You're only going to be disappointed." He could hear his voice shaking very slightly as he searched for the right thing to say, anything that might save him for whatever this orc was planning, "At the very least, you should just wait a while..." he didn't know what else to say.

The hobbit cringed as the orc offered an amused smirk and leaned in closer to him. "I think you'll be quite lively enough right now," it noted. "Maybe..." the orc continued as it put its fingers on Bilbo's shoulder and ran them all the way down his arm until they rested on his hand, "if I take your little fingers, and snap your tiny bones, one by one..." the orc snatched at Bilbo's fingers as the hobbit attempted to pull them away, and put his hands into fists to keep his fingers shielded.

"No!" Bilbo begged in a pitiful whimper as he did all he could to keep his hands safe, but he was tied down, and had nowhere he could go. The orc gripped Bilbo's slender arm cruelly in its large paw and grabbed his little fist, forcing it open as Bilbo's pleas grew louder. "Please don't!" he begged as he squirmed and struggled in the orc's grasp.

The orc grasped one of the hobbit's tiny fingers, in its own large, rough hand, holding it threateningly in a tight grip as Bilbo could do nothing but stare with huge eyes and continue with futility to beg for his poor finger's sake.

"Please, please don't do this," he cringed as the orc squeezed his little finger and began twisting it very slightly. Bilbo held in a sob as the pain in his finger grew with each passing second. "Stop!" he begged as he tried quite uselessly to pull his arm out of the orc's grip. The orc only laughed as it continued squeezing Bilbo's finger tightly between two of its own large, brutal fingers, and twisted it very slowly.

"Weren't you told not to kill that thing yet?" another orc noted as it walked over and looked down at them.

Tears shone in Bilbo's eyes as he looked pleadingly up at this orc, "Please don't let him-"

He was cut off with a sharp kick to the ribs from the orc who stood over them, "I'm not here to show you any mercy, vermin," it growled. "I'm just enforcing orders."

Bilbo couldn't believe it when the orc twisting his finger actually stopped as it shoved him down further into the ground and against the tree and stood up to talk to the other orc. Bilbo balled his hands into fists again, keeping his fingers hidden against his palms as soon as he could as his tormentor began arguing with the other orc, who had just saved his finger from being broken, "I ain't killin' it," the first orc growled, "just playin' with it."

"Where'll be his incentive to talk when he's questioned? Using up all his tears before we even ask 'im any questions mightn't be wise," the other orc noted.

"I'm sure he's got plenty of 'em," the first laughed.

"Just wasn't sure if the master would want 'im spoiled before interrogation," the other shrugged, "but you'll be the one to pay for it if he is. There'll be plenty of time for you to play with him later."

The orc who had been hurting him growled in frustration as it looked down at Bilbo. "Maybe not yet then," it grumbled, "but waiting's only gonna make me impatient, and then your pain will be double. I'll do more than break your fingers. I'll bite 'em off," the orc made a chomping gesture with its teeth as it grinned down at the hobbit, "maybe after I burn them to a crisp in our nice little camp fire. Fresh, roasted halfling fingers," it licked its lips and laughed, "You may think you're getting off easy now, but you just wait."

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Bilbo shrunk down against the tree and winced as the orc slammed its hand down against the side of the hobbit's head. He felt claws slightly marking the skin on the side of his face and his cheek. In-taking a shaky breath, Bilbo looked up at the orc, hoping to see that it was finally leaving, but instead, he saw that the vile thing was raising its hand up yet again, most surely to deliver another stinging blow to the side of the hobbit's face.

Bilbo winced and flinched away, but the orc's hand never came back down. Instead, the hobbit heard the familiar, gravely voice of the orc leader, "I'll handle the interrogations," he growled as he shoved the other orc to the side and knelt down in front of Bilbo.

Even though he almost felt relieved at the moment, Bilbo knew he was nowhere near safe. This orc hadn't saved him from the other out of mercy. He had done so so that Bilbo wouldn't be worn out from torture before the leader-orc got his hands on him. The orcs' leader wanted his own torture to hurt more, so it was important that the other orcs not get the little hobbit too used to pain.

Trembling, Bilbo held perfectly still as the orc before him took out a jagged knife from his belt and held it close to the hobbit, "Be good for me, little mouse, and I won't have to use this on you."

He tried to flinch away as the orc brought the knife close to his hands. Fortunately, it was only cutting the cords which bound him. It cut all of the cords the other orc had tied him with not long before. The orc leader then grabbed the hobbit, dragged him to his feet, and hauled him into the cave. Bilbo's feet barely reached the ground as he was forced into the shadows. He wasn't sure what this orc had in store for him, but he was fairly certain it wasn't going to be any better than what the other orc had threatened him with. In fact, there was a good chance it was to be much worse...

_**xxxxxx**_

_**This was kind of an extra chapter. Though it gives a little insight into the group dynamics of the orcs, this chapter really wasn't all that necessary for the plot. In fact, I didn't even include it when I wrote the story originally. I added it in after I wrote the rest and edited future chapters minimally where needed. I just thought I should include a little more with the orcs than I originally did, so I added this bit. Seems to fit in well with the rest. Next chapter is a bit more violent.**_

_**Please leave me a review, sweet lovelies. Thank you.**_


	7. Interrogation

_**Welcome back... **_

_**xxx7xxx**_

Bilbo fought the urge to cower away from the huge, hulking orc who stood before him. He wanted to remain brave and stoic, but he certainly didn't feel either of those things. In his heart, he felt cold fear and dread, knowing that the orc would very likely deliver on his earlier threats. There was nothing that could stop him, after all. Bilbo was all but powerless, unarmed, outmatched, and all alone. No one even knew he was here. Thorin likely hadn't even noticed Bilbo was missing. No one could come to his aid if they couldn't find him, or didn't even know to search for him.

The little hobbit presently found himself thrown to the back of this dark cave, while five of the orcs sat around a fire at the cave's mouth, cooking some sort of meat, whatever poor animal their leader had hunted down not long before. Bilbo could hear their rough voices as they talked back and forth. A lot of what they said was on the topic of Bilbo, and all the horrid things they wanted to do with him. The last orc, the leader, stood in front of the hobbit, towering over him and staring down at him with a cruel smirk.

The orc squatted down so he was a bit higher than eye-level with the hobbit, who held his breath and held completely still. "So what is it then? Are you a friend of the elves? Traveling with men? Perhaps there's an entire group of little halflings traveling in the forest? Wouldn't that be an interesting sight?" he wondered with raised eyebrows and a smirk as he took one clawed finger, placed it against Bilbo's shirt, just under his collar bone, and dragged it slowly, threateningly across the hobbit's very slightly trembling chest.

Bilbo's shirt protected him from the orc's claw scratching his skin, but he still didn't like having the wicked creature so close, nor did he like its large, rough hand touching him. He almost would have preferred being shoved around or even smacked upside the head over this confusing, almost gentle gesture. He tried to shrink down, not enough to look scared, but enough to distance himself from his captor's claws. He offered no reply to the orc's inquiries.

"Maybe dwarves?" the orc guessed. For a moment, Bilbo's blood ran cold, but he did not let his fear show, or at least, he hoped he didn't. How did the orc know who the hobbit was traveling with? Had these same orcs found the other dwarves? Could his friends already be dead? Or did they notice Thorin after all, and just not say anything? But that wouldn't make sense... Why just leave Thorin alone if they knew he was there? No. He quickly realized this orc knew just as much now as it had before. The hobbit's questioner was simply listing possibilities, making wild guessed, just as it had a moment earlier when it wondered if Bilbo's company were elves, men, or other hobbits. Dwarves were just another possibility. The orc didn't know anything, though it kept talking, "They're certainly closer to your size, though still not nearly as tiny, and not nearly as useless. I can't imagine who would possibly require a halfling as a traveling companion. It doesn't make sense. Unless they are escorting you somewhere for some reason... But that doesn't make sense either. Halflings tend to stick close to home, and aren't ever a part of anything that matters in the rest of the world. I can't understand how we've found you out here... But that's where your answers will come in. Tell me, little one, why are you here?"

Bilbo shook his head, indicating that he was unwilling to answer the questions presented to him. In his chest he felt his thumping heart, seeming to pound harder and harder with each passing moment. Bilbo knew that with each additional second of silence, the orc was becoming more impatient, and getting closer to lashing out. The hobbit had a rather confident feeling that this whole business of strangely gentle hands wasn't going to last long. The orc must have had the idea that treating its fraglie little captive with pseudo-kindness would get him to talk, but Bilbo wasn't falling for it, and his captor was losing patience fast. He gasped as the orc's hand shot out toward him, wrapping its long, thick fingers around his neck and pulling him closer, so close in fact that Bilbo could feel its hot breath on his face. The hobbit shivered, from a mixture of the cold, his fear, and likely fever. The effects of those berries still hadn't seemed to have worn off. He honestly felt like he might pass out. Fear was likely the only thing keeping him from allowing himself to relax enough to faint.

"Do you realize what we will do to you if you refuse to give the information I'm requesting?" The orc narrowed its yellow eyes, "All you've got to do is tell us who you're traveling with, why you're here... where your company is... Just tell us those simple things, and you'll be spared. There's no use keeping secrets. Just tell me. Perhaps then you can live as my little pet. My little mouse," the orc put its hand against Bilbo's cheek in a false gesture of gentleness.

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut and shrunk away. He really didn't care for all this false gentleness at all. He was not this orc's pet. He was not a little child who would give up his friends due to a gentle hand on his face, much less a gentle hand that was at the same time rough, calloused, and threatening, a hand he did not welcome being anywhere near him. At least if the orc struck him or shoved him, it was quick, and its meaning was clear. Having its hands linger on him for so long, and with such confusing gentleness scared Bilbo. It was much more intimate and much harder to make sense of than an angry slap or harsh shove.

The orc pulled him closer again, grabbing the hobbit's chin in its huge, clawed hand and forcing Bilbo to look into its eyes now. "Are you lost?" it wondered. "Do you even know where your company is?"

Bilbo felt his lip quiver. How was he going to get out of this? He realized that he probably wasn't... He couldn't betray his friends. He couldn't tell the orcs that he was traveling with the dwarves. He couldn't use his ring to escape, and doubted he was going to get passed six orcs all on his own. Perhaps his journey was doomed to end here. In all his life, he never dreamed this would be the way he died.

"You are, aren't you? You're a little mouse, far from home, and completely lost," the orc smirked. "Well, you're lucky we found you then, so you'll have someone to look after you." The orc's hands gripped Bilbo's upper arms now, so tightly he feared they might break, "Now just tell us who you were traveling with, and maybe I won't be tempted to find my knife and carve into you with it."

Bilbo frowned as he felt himself trembling under the orc's hard hands. He couldn't tell this orc about the dwarves. The fact of the matter was, Bilbo was probably doomed either way. This orc wasn't just going to let him go, and even if he may have, Bilbo wasn't about to betray the dwarves and get them involved with these terrible creatures. As far as he could tell, however, this orc wasn't going to let him go even if he did talk. The conditions, as Bilbo understood them, were that Bilbo would be kept as a pet if he told the orcs about the dwarves. He wasn't sure what exactly that meant, but he doubted it would be anything fun or comfortable. They'd probably keep him in their company for a while, and mostly just shove him around and hurt him like they already had tonight, until they eventually killed him by accident. That sounded even worse than death.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Bilbo winced as the grip around his arms tightened with each moment of the hobbit's silence. "Tell me," the orc snarled again, "who is your company? Who brought you here?"

The hobbit breathed in a steadying breath and shook his head. "No one," he finally squeaked.

"You are trying my patience, little mouse," the orc growled, "and let me tell you, I haven't got much of it to begin with."

The hobbit kept his lips tightly shut as he trembled in the orc's grip.

"Fine," the orc breathed in a heavy breath. Bilbo stared up at him for a moment as the orc stood back up to its full height. Was that in then? Was the interrogation over? Was he going to be killed now? Bilbo would have taken a step back if he weren't already up against the cave's wall. He contemplated running, but he knew even if he escaped this orc, there were five more right outside of the cave. There was no way out of this.

Bilbo gasped as, without warning, a heavy hand slammed down against the side of his head, knocking him completely off his feet and onto the ground. The hobbit brought his hand up to his head as he scrambled back, sort of crawling until he was as far away from the orc as the cave allowed him to be.

Before Bilbo could even think about what to do next, he felt himself being dragged roughly off the cave's floor. The orc took no care to avoid tightly gripping Bilbo's injured wrist as he hauled the little halfling to his feet with very a harsh jerk. Bilbo was certain he felt his shoulder pop out of its socket then, and even could swear he heard a sickening popping sound to accompany it, followed by a very sharp pain shooting down his entire arm as the orc yanked him upward. The hobbit screamed out in agony as the orc slammed his back quite violently against the wall.

"Awww... Is your arm hurt, little mouse?" the orc mocked, squeezing Bilbo's injured wrist cruelly and yanking his arm upward again.

The hobbit instinctively tugged at his arm, which only caused the throbbing pain to worsen. He felt tears stinging his eyes, but refused to let the orc have the satisfaction of seeing those tears fall. Trembling from the pain, and from trying to keep himself composed, Bilbo closed his eyes and held his breath. Both his shoulder and his wrist hurt so horribly and the orc's tight grip around the limb and its refusal to stop pulling at it harshly made it hard for Bilbo to keep his tears at bay.

"Open your eyes, halfling," the orc ordered as he squeezed Bilbo's arm even tighter and shook the hobbit. "Open your eyes. I want to see your fear. Open them, or I'll break your other arm," he threatened, grabbing Bilbo's uninjured arm and twisting it harshly.

Bilbo cried out a pained whimper and forced himself to open his eyes. The orc grinned, showing all its teeth as Bilbo's large, tear-brimmed eyes met those of his attacker. "I'm not traveling with anyone!" Bilbo nearly screamed. He felt and heard in his trembling voice that he was very near bursting into tears, but he couldn't allow himself to do that. The orcs laughed at him already without seeing him cry. The mere fact that Bilbo was small, and an easy target for them seemed to amuse the orcs to no end. If Bilbo lost his composure now, the orcs' laughter would be utterly humiliating. He couldn't give them that satisfaction.

"Go ahead and cry, little one," the orc laughed as it pulled Bilbo harshly upward, hurting both his shoulder and his wrist with one quick motion. Bilbo held his tears in, but couldn't help but whimper at this orc's harsh treatment of his already injured limb. His wrist and shoulder throbbed. His entire arm did. The pain radiated through the limb with such intensity that he could hardly even think, and could scarcely place exactly where the pain even originated from. "You need not hold back your tears, little mouse. I'd love to see them," the orc grinned, "but it's only further proof that your kind would never travel alone. Can't even face a bit of pain."

Now Bilbo was eye-level with the orc again, but not because his tormentor was stooping down to match the hobbit's height. Instead, Bilbo was being held up several feet off the ground. He winced and squeezed his eyes shut, focusing all his efforts toward keeping his tears from falling.

"We will find your party in due time," the orc threatened. "Your refusal to speak will only mean more pain for you, and perhaps if you don't feel it necessary to use your tongue to give me answers, I'll just cut it off."

Bilbo frowned and pressed his lips closer together as he gripped at the orc's giant hands, which held him up with a very tight hold on his upper arms. He didn't know what to do. Even if he created a fictional group to claim to be traveling with, setting the orcs off to search for anyone, real or fictional, could mean betraying the dwarves. Thorin was just outside of the forest, and the other dwarves were likely still within it. Either way, they were nearby, and the orcs could find them by accident while looking for whichever fictitious people Bilbo invented. The hobbit felt utterly trapped. He couldn't tell them the truth, he couldn't tell a lie, and not saying anything at all wasn't working out well for him either.

The orc pushed Bilbo against the wall of the cave with just one of its thick arms now, but still managed to keep him dangling above the ground. The orc's horrifyingly muscular arm stretched over the hobbit's chest, crushing him painfully against the stone wall.

"One more chance, halfling," the orc growled, "before I start really hurting you. You think you're in agony now... Every bit of pain you've felt thus far will be a mere tickle compared to what's coming."

With that, Bilbo began to truly panic. He was already in quite enough pain, and certainly wasn't ready to endure whatever this orc had planned for him. Among other things, the orcs had already threatened to cut off his fingers, break his bones, cut out his tongue, and cook him. None of those things were something he cared to see become reality. He blinked as he stared at the orc in front of him. He was beginning to see spots in front of his vision and his chest felt hot and cold all at once. He was so scared, and wasn't sure how much longer he could last before fainting. He squeezed his eyes shut. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't exactly talk his way out of this. These orcs were smarter than trolls, and much more cruel.

"Are you this foolish?" the orc scowled as he moved his arm and let the hobbit fall to the ground. "Do you want to suffer? Is that it?"

Bilbo shook his head. "Of course not," he answered with a small whimper as he forced himself to stand and then to keep standing on protesting, tired legs, "but I have nothing to offer you." He heard his voice shaking, just as he felt his body trembling.

"Do not lie to me," the orc screamed as it swung its hand at the hobbit, knocking him upside the head and in the process, splitting Bilbo's bottom lip and causing him to fall back against the wall with a pained cry. Bilbo could feel and taste a small amount of blood trickling from his lip, into his mouth and dribbling down his chin. He raised his fingers to his lip and looked up at the orc who had so cruelly hit him. "Your chance to offer me information has passed," the tall orc growled. "Now you will suffer."

The hobbit felt his eyes widen as he backed himself up against the far wall of the cave, and as the orc closed in on him, reaching its clawed hands out and grabbing the front of Bilbo's shirt. With a small gasp, Bilbo flinched, trying to shrink away. He feared fighting back would only result in more pain, so he held mostly still, though he couldn't help but tremble.

"I have a knife I might use on you later," the orc explained. "Oh, I'll have so much fun with you, little one. You won't even know pain until I've put my knife to you... but I don't even need it to do damage to your soft, delicate skin now. I need no weapon at all to make you squeal. I can go easy on you for the time being, and you'll still find it excruciating."

Bilbo frowned, trying to back himself up further against the wall, but the orc's terrible, rough, clawed hands were still on him. This was the orc's idea of going easy on him? He shuddered to think what might happen to him later... He honestly wanted to sob and beg for mercy, no matter how pitiful it would make him look. His desperation was growing more and more by the minute. His entire arm throbbed, and it was a worse pain than anything he had ever felt before, which was just awful considering the orc seemed to imply that Bilbo's pain was only just beginning. How much worse could this get? He was so frightened of what the orc was clearly capable of. The creature's thick, muscular limbs could do serious damage to a little hobbit like Bilbo, and it seemed the orc rather enjoyed hurting over killing. At this point, the hobbit feared he was indeed going to be killed by this horrid orc, but it was not going to be quick.

With one hand on Bilbo's arm, holding him firmly in place, the orc pulled at the hobbit's shirt, testing the strength of the shirt's buttons until the threads attaching the top few unraveled and the buttons popped off and scattered on the cave's ground with tiny pattering sounds like rain hitting rocks. Bilbo stared up at the orc with wide, confused eyes as it took its hands and pulled Bilbo's shirt and vest open. The hobbit held his breath as the large, rough, clawed hand rested on his now-bare chest. What was the orc going to do? Rip Bilbo's heart out with its bare hands? Get out the knife he'd mentioned earlier and stab the hobbit with it?

With his eyes still wide, Bilbo winced when the orc's claws began slowly biting into his flesh, in a very deliberate way. The hobbit finally understood what the orc intended to do. It was going to use its harsh, jagged nails to claw at Bilbo's flesh. The foul creature had certainly been right when he claimed he didn't need his knife to hurt Bilbo. The nasty, cruel orc had sharp nails that were just as effective as knives would be.

"Wait!" Bilbo cried, obviously quite frightened by the idea of having his skin viciously clawed. He grabbed at the orc's thick arm, but Bilbo was not strong enough to get the large, rough hand off of him. He whimpered as the pressure on his chest increased, and as he felt four stinging, intense points of pain under his collar bone where the orc had placed its fingers.

The orc simply laughed, "Wait? Wait for what, little mouse? I've been waiting this whole time. Are you going to reveal your companions to me now? Hm? Go ahead."

Bilbo swallowed a lump in his throat. "I-" he gasped as the orc sunk its claws deeper into the skin under Bilbo's collarbone, causing the hobbit to cry out once more. "Please stop-" he begged, attempting once more, with futility, to pry the heavy hand off him. "I'll tell you," he lied, still not sure what he was going to say to the orc, if anything.

"I'm waiting," the orc sneered, but kept its claws right where they were.

Bilbo looked down at the orc's hand, and at the trails of his own blood slowly making their way down his chest from under his attacker's horrifying claws. "I was traveling with elves," he lied in a trembling, cracking voice. "That's why I had that elfish sword," he added to make his story more convincing, "but we got separated in the, uh..." He hesitated, causing the orc to sink his claws even deeper into the hobbit's flesh, and grip his arm even tighter. Bilbo could swear the orc was sinking its claws into his arm as well, but the pain in his chest was so great that all his attention was on that instead.

"Go on," the orc showed its teeth, and did not look at all amused.

Bilbo felt tears welling up in his eyes as all he could focus on was the sharp, stinging pain of the claws sinking into his skin. He noticed his own breaths were now quite short and his vision was growing even more cloudy. The pain was almost more than he could bear. "Please let go of me first," the hobbit suggested in a trembling, frightened voice. "I can't think straight with your claws digging into me like that..."

This only caused the orc's cruel grip to tighten as it began to slowly rake his claws over Bilbo's chest, "You're in no position to make requests, little mouse. Now, tell me, how many are in your company, and where did they lose you?"

It was impossible for Bilbo to keep his tears contained now as the orc's sharp claws dragged across his trembling chest, ripping bloody streaks into his previously smooth skin. "Don't!" he begged with a choked sob as he tried with futility to shrink away. "Please stop!" he cried out as burning pain radiated across his chest. He felt his own wet, sticky blood oozing down over his ribs and staining his shirt. "I'll tell you!" Bilbo pleaded. Another sob ripped out of the hobbit's throat as white-hot pain shot through his chest. "Stop!" he cried again as the orc dragged its claws a bit further.

"Then tell me!" the orc screamed as he shook the halfling harshly, but kept his claws right where they were. Bilbo had clearly used up all the patience the orc possessed. When the orc had told the hobbit its patience was limited, it hadn't been lying.

Staring down at the four claw marks on his chest, and at the orc's hand, which still threatened to make those marks longer, and possibly deeper, Bilbo trembled and began making up some more lies. "Three elves," he gasped as tears streamed down his cheeks. He felt himself shaking and saw more spots in front of his eyes now than before. "I was traveling with three elves," he felt like he could barely breathe as his exhaustion and pain overwhelmed him. He could tell he wasn't going to last much longer.

"And where did you become separated?" the orc growled with narrowed eyes.

Bilbo held back a pained sob. The place where the orc had clawed him stung horribly and its claws were still digging into the wounds. "The goblin tunnels, the goblin town," he squeaked, quite out of breath. Bilbo didn't think he'd ever felt pain this intense, and it was only worsening with each passing second. "I'm fairly sure they've been killed... You won't find them," the hobbit lied in a shaking voice. The last thing Bilbo wanted was for these orcs to go after some random elves because of him, "I don't think they ever made it out. I'm sure the goblins finished them off. That's why I'm alone. I had to move on without them when it seemed they were gone."

The orc narrowed his eyes, "And why don't I believe that?" He smirked a grin that was somehow completely un-amused, yet excited at in the same instant, "I won't be pacified by lies, little mouse." He cocked his head slightly to the side and dragged his claws another millimeter across the hobbit's trembling chest.

Bilbo couldn't help but scream out yet another pained sob before begging once more, "I'm telling you the truth! Please stop!" He reached his injured hand, which was presently his only unrestrained limb, toward the orc's thick arm and attempted with futility to pull the sharp claws off himself. He only succeeded in causing more pain to his own arm as he cried out a frustrated and pained whimper. "Please!" his voice shook as tears spilled down his cheeks.

Without any warning, the orc dragged his claws several more inches over Bilbo's exposed chest, until he reached the bottom of the hobbit's rib-cage. Bilbo screamed louder than he ever would have thought possible, a long, pained scream with lasted until he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen when the orc punched him there, quite hard. His screams turned into pained coughing then as he curled in on himself.

"So it seems you're not willing to give me answers just yet. But you will, in time," the orc snarled as it gripped Bilbo's face and forced the hobbit to look at him. "I knew I'd get to see your tears," the orc taunted with an evil smirk. Bilbo could only stare up at the orc through his own tears as it squeezed the hobbit's face in it's one large, clawed hand. Bilbo felt himself trembling and his breaths were short, shallow and painful as he put all of his efforts into keeping what little composure he had left. "You're stronger than a Shire-rat probably should be. Among halflings, you might have been a legend, but you're still just a weak little mouse to me," the orc finally let go of Bilbo's face, only to immediately punch him in the stomach again.

Bilbo doubled over in pain. Fortunately, the orc wasn't holding onto him anymore. Bilbo had never been happier to fall to the ground. He curled himself into a ball, covering his head with his hands and hoping the orc didn't mean to kill him just yet. He hoped the orc had satisfied its desire to inflict pain and see the hobbit cry. He hoped this was all over, even if just for a moment. At this point, Bilbo would have been grateful to be left alone to pass out and lie shivering on the cold, hard ground.

"Don't kill it yet," one of the orcs from the outside called into the cave. "I'm sharpening my knife and would like to have something alive to test it out on," the other orcs followed with loud laughter as Bilbo cringed, but he kept his eyes squeezed shut and his hands and arms shielding his face. With any luck, perhaps he would lose consciousness soon. At least then if the orc or its companions hurt him again, he wouldn't know right away.

He nearly screamed again when he felt the orc grabbing onto his sprained wrist, which may have very well been actually broken by this point, after all the rough handling it had received. He whimpered as he felt the orc's hand encircle his wrist in a crushing grip. Before he could even realize he had done so, he found himself kicking out at the orc's shins and swinging his free arm at its stomach. "Let me go!" he screamed, biting back a sob at the sharp pain in his arm.

The hobbit's retaliation must have angered the orc, for Bilbo then felt a harsh knock against his head and soon found himself lying limply on the ground, completely out of breath. He wanted to sob, but was too tired and beaten down. Even when he felt too broken to cry out, he did hear a scream... but it wasn't his own. It was one of the orcs outside of the cave.

Bilbo opened his eyes and stared toward the mouth of the small cave. He felt too weak to move at this point, but was able to loll his head to the side and peer toward the cave's exit. However, he couldn't make anything out clearly, as his head swam and his vision was clouded by his own tears. The orc looming above him didn't seem to notice the commotion out there, as its attention was still on Bilbo.

"Whoever brought you out here, they've done you a terrible disservice, little mouse," the orc sneered, dragging the hobbit off the ground once more. "Perhaps I'll let you live for now, if only to ensure you suffer more later. I quite enjoy your tears, little one, and look forward to more," he tossed the hobbit against the cave's wall and laughed.

Bilbo simply whimpered weakly as he slid down the stone wall. He groaned and curled back in on himself when he felt a sharp kick to his side, but even the small comfort of lying curled up on the hard stone ground was not afforded to him. The orc kicked him over so that he was on his back again and put its heavy foot on Bilbo's chest.

"Don't," Bilbo gasped as he clutched weakly at the orc's foot, which threatened to crush his ribs.

The orc simply laughed as it put a bit more pressure on its foot, taunting the hobbit with a threat Bilbo only hoped was not to be delivered upon. It could have crushed the hobbit's bones in one quick motion if it wanted to. It would be the easiest thing for a huge orc to do to a tiny, defenseless hobbit lying still on the ground. Bilbo felt tears spilling silently from his eyes as he pushed against the orc's foot with ever weakening arms. He couldn't move it, and the orc was pressing its foot down slowly, more and more with each passing second.

Bilbo knew there was no point in pleading, and was certain he hadn't the strength left to do so. His life was in the orc's hands, and nothing he could say or do was going to sway the cruel creature's desires. The hobbit felt himself grow limp and he closed his eyes as he allowed blissful unconsciousness take him.

_**xxxxxx**_

_**Ouch. Please leave me a review.**_


	8. Liability

_**Ever wonder what Thorin has been up to during all the horrible abuse Bilbo has been having to endure? Well, wonder no more... (He was sleeping, of course...) But sleep doesn't last, especially not near Mirkwood. We're changing things up in this chapter, focusing on Thorin's point of view more than Bilbo's. Enjoy:**_

_**(And holy hell, this chapter is much longer than I thought it was...)**_

_**xxx8xxx**_

When Thorin awoke it had been due to what he could have sworn were very faint cries of pain coming from somewhere in the distance, and even fainter sounds which he could have sworn were cruel, mocking laughter, not anywhere very near, but not anywhere very far either. In his state of exhaustion, the dwarf couldn't quite make out if the sounds were really what they had seemed, but if it was indeed laughter he heard, it wasn't dwarf or hobbit laughter. It sounded too rough an callous for that. The fact that the laughter seemed to accompany soft, faint, pained cries pretty much guaranteed that this wasn't a matter of a group of dwarves having a harmless joke. Dwarves weren't the sort to laugh as someone else cried. Something sinister was going on...

If that alone wasn't worrisome enough, he noticed his burglar was nowhere to be seen.

The dwarf quickly searched the area, doing his best to keep himself calm, even though he was terrified. The fact that Thorin had awoken to the sound of someone screaming or crying in the distance mixed with the fact that his burglar had seemingly gotten himself lost yet again was very unsettling, but panicking was not going to solve anything.

He quickly made his way along the edge of the trees, looking for signs of his burglar. Thorin didn't hear any laughing or cries anymore. He had only heard them just as he had been waking up, and couldn't even say for sure which direction they had come from. The sounds had been faint, and maybe even all in his head. But that didn't change the fact that the hobbit was not here. Even if the faint, pained cries were all a dream, there was still no explanation as to where Bilbo had gotten to.

This hobbit certainly was a difficult one to keep track of. He didn't ever seem to want to stay put or keep things easy. Instead of simply accepting that there would be no dinner, he had gone off into the woods to find berries. And now, instead of simply staying near the fire and keeping watch, a perfectly easy job anyone was capable of doing, he had gone off again, probably in some futile attempt to make things somehow easier or more comfortable. Bilbo didn't seem to understand that his attempts at helping quite often only made things worse, and Thorin almost wanted to curse Gandalf for suggesting they bring the hobbit on this quest. But the dwarf didn't forget the few times Bilbo had been useful, and even heroic. Nothing could cancel those times out.

Near the woods quite a few paces away from the fire, Thorin noticed a pile of small branches lying somewhat scattered on the ground. The hobbit had no doubt gone to collect firewood, but obviously hadn't returned with it. Something had happened before he could make it back to their camp.

After examining the ground around the discarded twigs, Thorin discovered faint tracks belonging to the hobbit as well as what appeared to be the heavy prints of at least four or five orcs. The dwarf's heart had sunk immediately. Bilbo wasn't equipped to fight off orcs, neither figuratively nor literally, and certainly not many all at once. The tracks led into the woods.

Thorin scanned the trees for any sign of where the poor little hobbit may have been chased to next. He followed a mixture of light tracks and broken branches until he noticed the faint glow of the hobbit's sword in the distance. Upon recognizing the pale blue glimmer, he had immediately raced toward it. The sword had been tossed aside, into a small clearing, along with the hobbit's little coat and pouch, which was still filled with the poisonous berries he'd shown Thorin earlier. Thorin grabbed up the items and looked for more footprints, following them further into the forest.

When he heard pained screaming, which was loud enough now that Thorin was certain it was real, he didn't need to continue searching the ground for prints. He instead quietly and cautiously, though quickly, followed the sounds, eventually making his way to a small cave, where he noticed five orcs sitting near a fire at its entrance. Discarding Bilbo's belongings carefully behind a nearby tree, Thorin set to work getting rid of these orcs so that he might hopefully reclaim his friend before it was too late.

As he moved in on the orcs, he heard pitiful whimpers and sobs coming from the cave, along with muffled voices he couldn't quite make out. That meant the hobbit was at least still alive, for the moment anyway. Thorin would need to move quickly if he wanted the hobbit to keep his life. He had five orcs outside of the cave to deal with before he could even consider what might be inside.

He killed the first orc quietly, sneaking up behind it and slitting its throat before it even had a chance to alert its comrades. The second one screamed before he could kill it, but he drove Orcrist into its abdomen and then sliced off its head swiftly before any of the other orcs could defend it.

Then he had to kill the next three while they all tried to kill him as well, as by this point they were very much aware of his presence, but it wasn't much of a challenge. These orcs were armed and vicious, but not warriors. They weren't trained like Thorin was. He fought them all at once, very careful to be mindful of each of them until they were all dead.

When Thorin entered the cave, he was greeted with the sight of a large orc glowering down at him. It didn't seem to care much that Thorin had just slain all of its comrades. After all, the orc was staring right at the dwarf as though it had been aware of his presence all along, yet it hadn't stepped in to save the others. Thorin narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the scene before him.

The tall, vicious orc standing near the back of the cave didn't seem angry at Thorin's arrival. In fact, it seemed almost pleased, as it stood still, evaluating the dwarf just as much as Thorin was considering the orc. The foul creature smirked very slightly at it stared down at Thorin, who allowed himself to take his attention off the despicable being long enough to locate the person he had come here for. Behind the orc, lying limply on the floor at the very back of the cave, was Thorin's burglar. He appeared to be unconscious, and didn't look well at all. In the brief moment the dwarf had to observe the hobbit, he noticed Bilbo had a small amount of blood on his face and quite a bit more on his chest, and he looked to be quite scuffed up all over. He wasn't moving at all. Thorin couldn't even detect any rise or fall of the little halfling's chest.

"This belong to you?" the orc smiled a cruel grin as it nudged Bilbo's limp body with its foot. The hobbit didn't so much as flinch. He simply lay on the ground, remaining so still it made Thorin's blood run cold.

Thorin wanted to swear at the orc, but kept his mouth shut for now. He wanted to lunge at the foul creature right then, attack it and kill it as quickly as he could, but taking on the orc right here, while they were so close to Bilbo's tiny, unconscious form would be too dangerous for the hobbit's sake. Thorin couldn't risk causing Bilbo to be stepped on, tripped over, or otherwise hurt. He needed to get this disgusting creature away from Bilbo so that the hobbit was in no danger of further injury, and he needed to hurry. Thorin only hoped he wasn't already too late. For all he knew the hobbit had already been killed. The tiny little halfling was so still that the dwarf couldn't say for sure if he was even breathing. But for now, he had to assume Bilbo was alive, and had to get the orc away from him. So Thorin slowly took steps backward out of the cave as the orc cautiously followed his lead.

"You're the company this little vermin was traveling with then," the orc guessed with an amused smirk and a nod of its head, "and now you've come to collect your little liability. Is that it?"

Thorin simply scowled at the hideous creature. He owed no answer to this despicable orc, and certainly didn't want to waste his time arguing over Bilbo's worth. With any luck, the orc would be dead in a matter of minutes. Thorin felt no need to convince this nasty fellow that Bilbo was more than a liability. It didn't matter what the orc thought of Thorin's burglar.

"Would have been easier on him if he would have just told me he was traveling with dwarf scum. I don't know why he thought it was such a big secret. Now I got my answer anyway, and he suffered greatly for it," the orc laughed. "Lay down your weapon, dwarf," the orc ordered, "and I'll let you mend his wounds before the next round."

Thorin shook his head as he glared at the orc. There was no way he was laying down his sword. He knew better than to hope that this orc was capable of anything other than malice. And of course, the offer the orc had given, even if it were sincere, was not good enough. Thorin wasn't even going to give the orc the option to run off. This orc was going to die here for whatever it had done to Thorin's burglar. The dwarf didn't tolerate violence against his company, nor did he think he was capable of forgiving it. As far as Thorin was concerned, this orc had already dug its own grave.

"Very well then," the orc shrugged. "I'm going to enjoy keeping him around as my pet after I take care of you. He certainly is a fun little toy," the vile creature laughed again. "Tries so hard not to cry... but doesn't succeed. There's only so much a pitiful little halfling can take before it breaks him."

Thorin growled as he lunged toward the orc, who was now fully outside of the cave. This orc seemed a better fighter than the others, but still not more than Thorin could handle. The foul creature immediately drew its own crude sword and parried Thorin's blow.

The dwarf swung Orcrist again, managing to slice a shallow, superficial gash in the orc's chest as it attempted to dodge away. The orc hissed in pain and swung back, a merciless, heavy blow that narrowly missed Thorin's shoulder.

Thorin gritted his teeth as he swung out at the orc again. The orc blocked Orcrist and swung its heavy weapon at the dwarf. If not for Thorin's quick reflexes, that swing may have taken off his arm. But it was such a heavy, wide blow, that the orc's crude sword swung well passed Thorin, which gave the dwarf a much-needed window of opportunity. While his opponent was distracted, with its weapon swung outward, Thorin finally saw the chance he needed. Quickly, he swung Orcrist hard across the orc's exposed neck, effectively decapitating him in one swift motion.

As its head rolled away into a nearby bush, the orc's now-headless body staggered forward for a half-second before falling with a heavy, sickening thud against the ground.

Breathing out a tired and relieved breath, Thorin rushed back into the cave, kneeling down next to the hobbit and looking him over.

Bilbo was lying on his back, with one arm limply on his stomach and the other at his side. His eyes were closed, and his eyebrows were knitted with worry. The hobbit's mouth, complete with a bleeding cut on his lower lip, was set in a slight pout and he looked quite pale. Thorin immediately put his hand on Bilbo's chest, careful to avoid the several very painful looking gashes marking the hobbit's skin. Thorin was so relieved when he felt a very faint rising and falling, indicating that the poor little hobbit was at least still breathing.

Fortunately, the fire the orcs had started at the mouth of the cave gave off enough light for Thorin to assess the hobbit's injuries. The dwarf exhaled as he first took a closer look at Bilbo's chest, which seemed to be the location of the most serious of his wounds. The hobbit's little shirt was half unbuttoned and torn open, which exposed much of his small chest, along with four angry red marks which ran from his left collar bone, down across his chest and over to the right side of his rib cage. Those were no doubt the work of an orc's claws. Thorin frowned. The poor little hobbit must have been terrified, and surely felt excruciating pain from the injury.

He looked over the hobbit's injured little body some more, noticing darkening bruises on his abdomen and ribs, surely where the orcs had needlessly hit or kicked him. Thorin sighed as he closed his eyes for a moment. Bilbo didn't deserve this. Not one bit. Breathing in a steadying breath, Thorin set back to work. Bilbo needed him to be calm now. There was no use in Thorin wasting all his injury being angry at the orcs in this exact moment. He had to keep a clear head so he could properly treat the hobbit's injuries.

Running his hands carefully along the skin over Bilbo's ribs to check for broken bones, Thorin winced when he realized how hot his little burglar's flesh felt. He was definitely feverish. Thorin wondered if the hobbit had consumed some of those berries he had shown the dwarf earlier. Fever was one of the common consequences to eating those such berries, but it was the least of Thorin's concerns at the moment. He needed to check for more serious injuries before worrying about what was likely a virtually harmless fever.

Thorin imagined the orcs had probably hit and kicked the hobbit all over. Any number of Bilbo's bones could have easily been broken by these violent creatures. Thorin continued to carefully run his fingers over the hobbit's ribs, frowning when he noticed just how small and fragile the halfling's bones felt. They didn't seem to be broken, but if the orcs had wanted to snap the hobbit's little ribs, they would have had no trouble at all doing so. In fact, the orcs must have actually had to put care into keeping their torture this minimal. Of course, the hobbit looked quite hurt, but orcs were capable of such brutality, and Bilbo was so small, and so fragile when compared to those who were likely the orcs' usual victims. Thorin was surprised the brutes even knew how to not kill someone so delicate when they were used to inflicting pain without mercy.

It was no secret that hobbits tended to be smaller and weaker than many of the other races of middle earth, but often Bilbo certainly did a good job trying to keep people from noticing that fact. It was easy for Thorin and the other dwarves to forget just how delicate their burglar was. These orcs could have hurt him so much worse, and Thorin honestly wasn't sure why they had held back, unless it was just to keep him alive longer, so they could delight in having him around as an abused plaything for weeks and weeks, and so they could save their harshest torture for the end. Thorin closed his eyes and let out a breath. It made him so angry to think of the orcs hurting his friend, and with absolutely no other reason for it beyond enjoying seeing the little hobbit suffer.

The dwarf continued his examination, being as gentle and thorough as possible. He couldn't allow his anger to prevent him from doing what really mattered. So he continued on, moving his hands over the rest of the hobbit's fortunately in-tact ribs before moving on to his arms.

When Thorin ran his hands carefully over Bilbo's forearms, the hobbit whimpered softly and pulled away from Thorin's grip. "No... Please don't... Let me go," Bilbo gasped in a tiny, heart breaking voice as he scrambled back so that he was sitting up, with his back against the cave's wall. The dwarf soon found himself staring at the hobbit, whose wide, terror-filled eyes stared right back at him. For a moment, it seemed the halfling couldn't quite make out what it was he was looking at, for he still looked terrified and his small body trembled visibly. "Don't touch me!" Bilbo nearly screamed in a shaking, weak voice as he moved one hand out in front of himself as though preparing to hold Thorin back. "I told you the truth. Please..." Bilbo sounded so exhausted, and so scared. Still, he didn't seem to know who he was talking to. Perhaps his eyes hadn't adjusted to the darkness just yet. Due to the way the two of them were positioned, with the fire behind Thorin, it was highly possible the dwarf appeared only as a vague silhouette to the hobbit.

"Bilbo, it's me," Thorin spoke in a calm voice, even though he felt anything but. In fact, he was quite furious, not at Bilbo, of course, but at the orcs who had needlessly hurt him. He wanted to reach out his hand and offer some sort of physical comfort to the terrified, trembling little creature before him, but in no way did he want to scare the hobbit further, so he kept his distance and continued speaking reassuring words, "It's okay. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you. Not anymore."

"Thorin?" Bilbo squeaked in an uncertain and heart-breakingly weak voice before practically falling forward and putting one of his arms around the dwarf, in a sort of half-hug. The hobbit immediately began to sob into Thorin's shoulder.

The dwarf put his arms gently around the hobbit, who continued crying, but who said nothing more. Thorin noticed he kept his other arm tucked safely against his chest. It was obviously injured, judging by the way he was refusing to make use of it. Thorin honestly didn't know what to do or say. He felt disappointment, guilt, anger, and heartbreak all at once. This shouldn't have happened.

Bilbo continued sobbing into Thorin's shoulder, clinging desperately to the dwarf with his uninjured hand. The hobbit's entire body shook with his sobs and hysterical breaths. Thorin hugged him closer. The poor little hobbit must have been so scared. Thorin almost dreaded asking what exactly the orcs had done to him, as he knew any details were sure to break his heart. Of course, he would have to ask eventually, to be sure any injuries Bilbo had suffered were properly cared for, but for now, he just needed to focus on calming the hobbit. Bilbo's frantic, gasping breaths and sobs weren't going to help the situation at all.

"It's okay, Bilbo," Thorin attempted to reassure his friend as he put his hand softly on the back of Bilbo's head and held him close. He wasn't entirely sure if Bilbo's tears were a result of pain, fear, relief, a combination of the three, or perhaps something else entirely. All he knew was that he wanted to take away whatever negative feelings were causing the hobbit so much anguish. Bilbo needed to know that he was going to be fine, and that no more harm would come to him. He also needed to know that Thorin would be there to help him heal from whatever torture he had just endured.

The hobbit's shoulders shook as another choked sob, muffled by the dwarf's shoulder, echoed softly through the cave. His cries sounded so pained. "Thorin," Bilbo managed to whimper between sobs and frantic, shaking breaths. If the hobbit had intended to say more, he certainly didn't get around to it, as more uncontrollable sobs followed.

"You're going to be alright," Thorin promised, moving his fingers gently through Bilbo's curls. "I'm not going anywhere," he added when Bilbo seemed to cling to him so desperately, as though fearing the dwarf could vanish at any moment.

They sat like this for a few minutes, with the hobbit clinging to Thorin as though letting go even a little would result in him being left all alone. All Thorin could do was offer gentle, reassuring words and a secure yet soft embrace as the hobbit cried into the dwarf's shirt.

"You're safe, Bilbo," Thorin spoke in a calm voice as he rested his chin softly on top of Bilbo's curly hair. The tiny burglar trembled in Thorin's arms as he continued crying. He was probably cold, as he no longer wore his overcoat. That, and Bilbo complained about being cold nearly every night; tonight was surely no exception. Thorin would have gotten him something to cover himself up with, but then he would have to end their embrace, and something told him Bilbo would not like that at all. So he kept his arms where they were, enveloping Bilbo in a gentle hug, and hopefully warming him up a bit in the process.

Eventually Bilbo's sobs slowly died down into soft sniffles and his hysteric breathing calmed.

For a moment, Thorin wondered if the hobbit had cried himself to sleep. "Bilbo?" Thorin frowned and glanced down at his burglar. Due to how they were sitting, he couldn't see the hobbit's face. Bilbo was very still now, and his breaths were much more even than they had been.

"Are they gone?" the hobbit finally asked quietly, his words muffled by the fact that his face was buried in the dwarf's shirt. Thorin could barely even hear him as Bilbo spoke in a tired, shaking voice, "Did they leave? How did you find me?"

"They are dead," Thorin informed him, carefully holding his arms around the hobbit's trembling shoulders. He wasn't sure yet how injured Bilbo was, and certainly didn't want to risk hurting him further, but couldn't ignore the halfling's clinging fingers and obvious need for physical comfort. "I wouldn't have let them leave even if they'd wanted to," Thorin added as he held the hobbit in a loose embrace.

"There were six," Bilbo informed him with a soft voice as he clung desperately to Thorin's shirt. He clearly needed confirmation that each and every one of the orcs who had ambushed him were in fact gone.

"Yes," Thorin nodded as he kept his arms carefully wrapped around Bilbo's slim shoulders. He was glad to have been told that the six orcs he had found here were all that Bilbo had encountered, as he had feared the possibility of there being more than it initially seemed. "All six are dead," he assured the hobbit.

"I'm sorry..." Bilbo spoke in a whimper. He sounded so exhausted, and his voice trembled slightly as he spoke, as though he had been screaming or crying, which of course, he had been, "I suppose I didn't keep watch very well... I was trying to collect firewood... I... They just showed up, out of nowhere..."

Thorin shook his head as he hugged the hobbit closer. Though the details of how this had happened were the least of his concerns at the moment, he still wondered how Bilbo had gotten himself into this predicament without Thorin hearing any sort of struggle. "Why didn't you call out for help? Why did you run off into the forest again?" Thorin wondered. He couldn't understand why the hobbit continued to put himself in danger like this. Bilbo had to know that taking on six orcs by himself was a foolish endeavor... So why had he done it? Was it his pride? Did he fear asking for help would mean he'd lose Thorin's respect? "The solution to this would have been to wake me, so I could have helped you. The idea of keeping watch is not to watch for danger and then lure it away by yourself..."

"There were too many of them, and they didn't notice you," he heard a frown in Bilbo's voice. "I was too far from the fire to alert you quietly. If I called out to you, they would have noticed. They would have gone after you..."

"I would have helped you," Thorin pulled back and stared into the hobbit's eyes, which were wide and still shone with tears. "Do not ever hesitate to call out for help if you need it. That is why we're traveling as a group, to look after one another, to defend each other when necessary. You could have been killed."

Bilbo frowned and his shoulders slumped. "I didn't want you to get hurt," he looked down as though ashamed.

"I can handle a few orcs, and the two of us together certainly have a greater chance at success battling a small group than you have alone," Thorin spoke.

"I know that," Bilbo still didn't look at the dwarf, "but I figured since I was probably not going to make it anyway, there was no use getting you involved too. It would be better for them to kill just me than both of us."

Thorin closed his eyes and pulled the hobbit back into their former embrace. "Please do nothing like that again," he urged. "I would rather risk getting involved than to leave you to fend off danger all on your own. I don't want you getting yourself killed for my sake."

"Okay," Bilbo agreed in a confused and exhausted-sounding voice.

The dwarf pulled away again, looking the hobbit over once more. "Where are you hurt?" he asked, his eyes no doubt looking very serious as he stared at the burglar. "Tell me what they did to you, and where you're hurt, and be honest. Being injured is nothing to be ashamed of, so I don't want you trying to hide anything from me for the sake of appearances."

Bilbo shook his head. "I don't know," he seemed so tired and uncertain, and of course he was probably in shock. "Well," he looked down, putting his own small, trembling fingers lightly on his chest and shuddered. "It hurt so much... It still does," he groaned as his lips formed a pout and fresh tears filled his eyes.

Thorin did his best to avoid dwelling on the fact that Bilbo seemed so emotionally devastated and leaned forward to look closer at the gashes across the hobbit's chest, as Bilbo continued to speak in a shaking, nervous voice.

"He wanted to know who I was traveling with. I wouldn't tell him, but he got more and more angry with me each time I refused to answer, and he was hurting me more and more each time he asked, and each time I didn't answer him. I kept quiet anyway, but then he put his claws on me, and they were like tiny knives, only not even really that tiny. I didn't know if his claws would cut me deeper and deeper until he killed me. It hurt so, so much, and I just wanted him to stop. Then I finally made up a lie, but he knew I was lying, and he hurt me even worse," as soon as the hobbit finished this long, rambling explanation, he breathed in a deep breath, as he hadn't left any room to do so between his words.

"They don't look dangerously deep," Thorin noted, "though I don't doubt they would be painful. We'll find something to bandage them with."

"They kept grabbing my wrist too," Bilbo spoke, his voice becoming more certain now as he finally started to better compose himself. "I think as soon as one of them grabbed me there and noticed that I was already hurt, they continued to grab it on purpose," he frowned and looked so sad it made Thorin want to kill the orcs all over again. Bilbo likely never before had to deal with someone who would purposefully hurt him just for fun, and realizing such creatures existed and were very much real must have been a very jarring experience for him.

"May I?" Thorin nodded toward the hobbit's swollen wrist.

Bilbo hesitated, looking down at his wrist and considering it for a moment, but finally offered his arm to the dwarf, very slowly, and reluctantly, "I actually don't think it's broken... but it does hurt, especially when I move it. I thought earlier that he may have broken it, but it actually looks better than it feels. I'm fairly certain my shoulder is dislocated though," he added as an afterthought, as though that information barely even mattered.

Thorin found it a bit strange that Bilbo's demeanor was turning around so quickly and so completely. Only minutes earlier he had sobbed into Thorin's chest as though completely devastated by all this. And now he was speaking so calmly about his own injuries, as though he was telling a story of what had happened to someone else.

"He pulled me up by my arm really hard. I think I even heard a popping noise," Bilbo noted with a half shrug of his other arm. Thorin had once been told that hobbits were exceptionally resilient. Perhaps that was what he was witnessing now. Nevertheless, it was slightly troubling how Bilbo's level of concern was so rapidly depleting.

Thorin frowned ran his fingers over the hobbit's wrist, as carefully as he could while assessing the damage, "I can pop your shoulder back into place in a moment. As for your wrist," he added as he finished running his fingers very carefully over Bilbo's arm, "it still doesn't seem broken, as you guessed. Perhaps more swollen now than before, but not broken. For that, you are lucky. I don't know that I've met any orcs who would not have delighted in breaking a hobbit's bones," he added to remind Bilbo of the severity of of the situation he had just narrowly escaped from.

"Well, he probably would have if given more time," Bilbo sighed as he closed his eyes and leaned his head tiredly back against the cave's wall. "I think I'm more or less okay." The hobbit shrugged as though the entire situation was no big deal, "I'm just really exhausted."

Thorin stared at the hobbit and couldn't help but shake his head very slightly. Did he even realize what those orcs could have done to him? What they _would_ have done to him if Thorin hadn't shown up when he did? Orcs often killed indiscriminately, but they were also known to keep victims alive and torture them when it was convenient for them, and six orcs keeping a tiny, fragile, defenseless hobbit around as a plaything for weeks, or even months would hardly have been an inconvenience. Bilbo was so lucky the orcs had only had less than an hour to do what they wanted with him. He had no idea of what these vile creatures were capable of.

The dwarf wanted to yell at the hobbit, to tell him to never stray so far on his own ever again. He wanted to inform him of what horrible things he had narrowly avoided tonight, so he'd know how important it was to never again get cornered by orcs all by himself. The orcs had certainly been rough and cruel with him, but it was nothing compared to what could have been. Bilbo needed to understand that, but perhaps that conversation would be better saved for later. Right now, the little halfling looked positively miserable, and a lecture wasn't what he needed.

Sifting through his bag, Thorin found some spare clothing and set to work patching Bilbo up. He started by tearing a piece off one of his shirts and pouring a bit of water from his canteen on it. He brought it gently up to the hobbit's mouth, dabbing away the blood from a cut on his bottom lip. Bilbo opened his eyes and stared at Thorin as the dwarf finished cleaning the blood away from his burglar's lip and made his way down to the hobbit's chest. There was certainly more blood there than on his mouth and chin.

Bilbo winced and flinched away as Thorin cleaned the gashes on his chest as carefully as he could. "I'm sorry," Thorin drew back and considered the hobbit for a moment before moving back to work.

After he had mopped up the blood, Thorin tore the rest of his shirt into strips, to use as bandages. Fortunately the cuts weren't exceptionally deep, and most of them were beginning to scab over by now. "Later we can try to find some herbs to perhaps help with the pain," Thorin suggested. "Could you remove your shirt for a moment?" he asked.

With shaking fingers, Bilbo unfastened the remaining buttons on his shirt and slid it as well as his vest, which Thorin had noted previously lost its buttons some time ago, off his shoulders. He immediately began shivering even more than he already had been.

The dwarf frowned when he finally got a better look at the hobbit's bare skin. His torso was covered in bruises, as were his arms, and his shoulder, which Bilbo had noted was probably dislocated, most certainly was. "We should pop this back into place," Thorin suggested, carefully putting his fingers on Bilbo's arm.

"I suppose that's probably going to hurt," Bilbo guessed with a grimace. He'd probably never dislocated anything before.

Thorin nodded with a sympathetic smile, "Yes, it probably will, but no more than leaving it untreated." Thorin immediately set to work. "Try to relax, and hold still," he instructed as he carefully bent Bilbo's arm at the elbow. "This should be quick. Remember to stay still. Are you ready?"

The hobbit hesitated, but nodded after a few seconds. He closed his eyes and held his breath as the dwarf gripped his arm and as gently as possible pushed it back into place. Bilbo let out a small pained sound as his shoulder popped back into its socket. The hobbit remained still and silent for a moment, then opened his eyes and rolled his shoulder very slightly, all while staring at Thorin with huge eyes. "That wasn't so bad," he offered a nervous smile as he let out a relieved breath.

"It won't be long before you're as good as new," Thorin forced a smile as well. He hated seeing Bilbo hurt, and hated that the little hobbit even had any need to heal such numerous injuries, but in a way he was glad to see Bilbo was in relatively good spirits. It did worry him, however, that the burglar didn't seem to see this gravity of the situation. He was behaving as though he'd accidentally fallen down, not as though he had just narrowly escaped weeks of vicious torture followed by a cruel, painful death. Thorin was torn between feeling glad that the hobbit seemed less affected by the situation than he probably should and feeling upset that perhaps Bilbo didn't understand how dangerous the world around him was.

Though the hobbit had seemed extraordinarily affected by this moments before when Thorin had found him, he seemed now to have all but forgotten his previous anguish. Although forgetting his pain would be nice for the hobbit mentally, it wouldn't help him to avoid these types of situations in the future. A healthy fear of orcs was a good thing. Perhaps Bilbo's strange behavior and lack of concern could be attributed to a simple case of being in shock. Thorin pushed those thoughts out of his mind for the time being. He could worry about all that later. For now he needed to make sure Bilbo was properly healed. So he moved on to finish taking care of the scratches.

Thorin made quick work wrapping his makeshift bandages around the hobbit's slim torso, covering the angry red marks completely before helping him pull his shirt back on and button the few buttons still remaining on the garment. He pulled the top of the hobbit's shirt and vest closed and put his hands lightly on Bilbo's arms. "You'll be alright," Thorin assured him.

Bilbo nodded, but looked uncertain as he averted his eyes, staring down at his newly bandaged chest and frowning.

"What is it?" Thorin wondered. Perhaps the hobbit simply didn't enjoy seeing himself so injured. Of course, Bilbo was very likely not accustomed to being hurt so seriously.

"Thorin," the hobbit hesitated, "I feel sick." Bilbo frowned, looking up at the dwarf and hugging his arms around himself as he shivered. "There's something I should tell you."

The dwarf narrowed his eyes as he considered the hobbit. Bilbo was probably going to confess that he had in fact eaten the berries Thorin warned him against earlier. Sure, he'd probably eaten them before Thorin told him not to, but that still didn't explain why Bilbo thought it was a good idea to neglect informing his companion that he had consumed poison. He had guessed as soon as Bilbo asked him why he shouldn't eat the berries that Bilbo had likely had a few while picking them. After all, what hobbit wouldn't sneak a few extra berries when given the chance? Thorin looked into the hobbit's feverish eyes and waited for his confession.

"When I went into the woods and found those berries, I ate a few... They looked like blackberries, and I'm not just a fool, so please don't treat me like I am," Bilbo defended himself. "I know my berries. I've become quite an expert on them. Those were blackberries... Or, the forest made me believe they were... I am certainly not one to consume strange berries without a second thought..."

Thorin offered a slight, sarcastic laugh, "Thank you for telling me... finally..." He reached his hand out to Bilbo's forehead. "You definitely have a fever," he noted. He had suspected as much when he felt the hobbit's skin earlier. "We should rest here for tonight, but we aren't going to keep wasting time like this after you are well again," Thorin compromised. He had wanted to travel quickly and spend very few hours resting, but Bilbo traveling while sick and hurt was simply not a good idea. Thorin could keep an eye on the hobbit's wounds, maybe find him something to eat, and let him rest, and then they would be able to travel with better efficiency.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Bilbo frowned, likely seeing the annoyance in Thorin's eyes. "I thought I could handle it... and of course, I didn't count on running into orcs."

Thorin offered the hobbit a genuine smile now, "Remember not to get too confident. No one expects you to handle everything on your own. You can tell me if something like this happens. It was an honest mistake, which could have happened to anyone. Mirkwood plays tricks like that on everyone, it seems. You could have told me about the berries. I would have thought no less of you. And certainly say something if you come across orcs, no matter what," he added with a much more serious tone. "You cannot face something like that alone."

Bilbo nodded, "I just didn't want them to hurt you."

"And I don't want them to hurt you," Thorin stared at the hobbit and his voice was more stern now than before. Bilbo still seemed to be making excuses for his choice of facing the orcs alone. As much as Thorin didn't want to give Bilbo a lecture just yet, it seemed like he might need one, and Thorin knew he'd rather hurt the hobbit's feelings than not say something and end up losing his burglar over it, "You will alert someone if you come across orcs again. Preferably me, but whoever is near and available will do. This is much more serious a threat than you seem to realize."

"I couldn't get you involved, Thorin," Bilbo frowned.

"I needed to be involved, Bilbo!" Thorin heard his voice increasing in volume, "You cannot risk your life like that."

"You did!" Bilbo all but scowled at him, "You followed me into the woods, and faced six giant orcs all on your own, just to save me. You knew fighting six orcs by yourself might not work. You knew there was a chance you'd be killed, but you did it anyway. I did the same thing you did. I took the same risk."

"No," Thorin growled, "there is quite a difference from the small risk I took in saving you and what you did. You weren't just risking your life. You were basically sacrificing it. You don't know what they could have done to you, Bilbo." Thorin shook his head as he thought of all the horrible, unspeakable things Bilbo had narrowly avoided becoming a victim of, "You all but handed yourself over to them!"

"I did not," Bilbo frowned. "I ran. I tried to lead them away, and I hoped that the forest might help me lose them. I could have gotten away. I didn't, but I could have. It was a chance I took, to keep you from harm. Exactly the same as the chance you took when you took on all six orcs in order to reclaim me from them. You didn't want me to get hurt, so you fought the orcs. I didn't want you to get hurt, so I tried to lead them away from you. It's the same thing."

"We aren't arguing about this," the volume of Thorin's voice increased further, and he could hear now that he sounded very angry, so angry in fact, that if he hadn't known himself, he would have pitied anyone who attempted to contradict him at this point. The hobbit didn't deserve to be yelled at, particularly not after the cruelty he just endured, but he needed to take Thorin's words seriously, "The moment you spot an orc, even just one, and even from a distance, you've got to make it known to your company. Immediately. It's not a matter of deciding whether to fight them alone or lead them away. There's no choice to be made. You are to tell me, or someone, so the problem can be taken care of. Do you understand?"

Bilbo shrunk down slightly at Thorin's tone. "Yes," the hobbit said in a small voice.

Thorin clapped his hand on the hobbit's uninjured shoulder. Bilbo looked almost scared of him now, and while that hadn't been Thorin's intention, he knew now that at least the hobbit was taking him seriously. "I'm going to retrieve your coat, bag, and Sting. I left them outside of the cave before I fought the orcs. I'll be right back," Thorin informed him. With that, he stood and left the hobbit at the back of the cave. He didn't like being so harsh with his words, but Bilbo needed to understand that Thorin was not going to tolerate the hobbit attempting to be a hero and getting himself into dangerous situations like he had tonight.

He was angry with Bilbo, and not because he wanted to be, and certainly not because Bilbo deserved to have the dwarf angry with him. He was upset because Thorin had felt so much fear for the hobbit that he was honestly offended that Bilbo didn't seem to care about his own well-being as much as the dwarf clearly did. Thorin hadn't thought much of the burglar when Gandalf had introduced him, but he thought a lot of him now, and he wasn't going to stand for Bilbo making choices that were so self destructive.

Thorin had thought for a moment when he reached the cave that Bilbo may have been killed, that perhaps he was too late. His burglar had been so still in the back of the cave when Thorin arrived, and the dwarf could not forget the horrible sick feeling he had felt when he first saw him. That cold, sinking feeling that perhaps Bilbo would never take another breath again. It was a terrible, crushing, dreadful feeling, wondering if Bilbo, the most innocent person Thorin had ever met, could have possibly met such a cruel end. Thorin wasn't angry with his burglar for any other reason than for the fact that the little hobbit had scared him so much. That was a fear he never wanted to face again.

_**xxxxxx**_

_**So as you can see, Thorin is very conflicted. He's relieved that Bilbo is pretty much alright and happy that Bilbo isn't extremely upset for longer than a few minutes after their initial reunion, but he's very angry with the situation in general; the situation being Bilbo getting hurt. He may seem a little mean and insensitive here and there, but it's just because he was so scared for Bilbo's sake. Thorin feels anger toward the orcs, a bit of disappointment in Bilbo for not staying closer to their campsite, and even some guilt as he wonders if there's anything he could have done differently to prevent this... Of course he also feels fear as he wonders if Bilbo really understands how much danger he was in, as after the initial shock wore off, Bilbo seemed to all but forget what just happened. So Thorin is having a little trouble knowing how to handle all those feelings. Thorin never expected to care much about Bilbo, but now he does, and nothing is as scary as caring about someone, especially when that someone keeps getting himself into danger.**_

_**Anyway, it took a while to edit and post this since it's longer than usual, and every time I decided to read through it and check it for spelling and grammar, I ended up adding or changing something. I've worked on this particular chapter for quite a while, so I hope everyone likes it. Let me know what you think via review. :D Please and thank you. **_


	9. Guilt

_**Thank you, everyone for your continued support, including your reviews, favoriting my story, or even just reading it. I really appreciate it. :D This chapter, and probably all of the future ones, are much shorter than the previous one, but still good, I hope. This one is split between Bilbo's and Thorin's point of view; still third-person though. Enjoy:**_

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Shivering, Bilbo huddled in the corner of the cave as he watched Thorin working on moving the fire the orcs had constructed earlier further into the cave. While Bilbo felt rather useless right now, and would have liked to help, he presently felt too weak and exhausted to do so. His entire body was sore from having been pushed around so harshly, his shoulder and wrist throbbed, his chest stung where the orc's sharp claws and cut him, and he felt quite feverish. He could barely even keep his eyes open, let alone be of any assistance to Thorin.

He watched as his companion carried some of the larger logs, still glowing red, inside the cave so that the two of them would be warmer tonight. The dwarf had seemed awfully upset with him before, which Bilbo really didn't think was fair. The hobbit had only tried his best to keep Thorin from being killed, and he had been yelled at for it. Why was it that no matter what he did, it was never good enough?

The way Bilbo saw it, Thorin should have been happy with how the hobbit handled the situation. He dealt with it the best way he knew how. If he had yelled out to Thorin, maybe they'd both be dead now. Or he could have told the orcs everything. Maybe they really would have let him go. But he hadn't taken the easy way out. Instead, he'd risked his own well being to keep Thorin's quest secret, and to keep the orcs from finding the dwarf or his kin. They probably would have killed Thorin too, if they had found him. Thorin would have been too much trouble for them to keep around. He wasn't like Bilbo. While the hobbit was weak enough to not be a problem, but still had enough fight in him to keep the orcs entertained, someone stronger would have only been a nuisance. The orcs had seemed to enjoy the fact that Bilbo wasn't too scared to fight back a bit, but that he wasn't really strong enough to effectively do anything to defend himself. They wouldn't have wanted to put up with the dwarf. He was too strong. He would have been too much of a hassle, and not worth the potential entertainment. Bilbo frowned when he realized the only reason the orcs hadn't killed him was probably because he wasn't strong. What a strange trait to save one's life...

The hobbit pouted as he hugged his arms around himself and continued observing Thorin's movements across the cave. He felt so cold, and he couldn't stop shivering. At this point, he didn't even know if the poisonous berries he'd eaten before were still affecting him. His shivering could have very likely been caused by the fact that he was in shock from having nearly been killed, or perhaps it was due to the chill air all around him.

Bilbo frowned when he thought again about the way Thorin had looked at him and spoken to him before. The dwarf seemed to think Bilbo was foolish, and implied that the hobbit had no idea just how much danger he had been in. But Bilbo was well aware of what those orcs could have done to him. They certainly had been vocal with their threats. Just knowing that he could have been hurt so much worse made the hobbit tremble even more. If Thorin hadn't found him, the orcs would still have him in their cruel clutches, and he would probably have suffered for days before finally being granted the mercy of death.

Even now he still feared that more orcs might be nearby. Thorin was certainly strong, but what if twenty orcs ambushed them? Or thirty? Or fifty? Bilbo was the ideal victim for a ruthless orc looking for something small and basically helpless to viciously torture. The hobbit was little and physically weak compared to others. If an orc wanted someone to shove around and hurt without much threat of retaliation, Bilbo was the perfect candidate. If they ran into a large group of orcs later, they would probably be just like the orcs Bilbo had encountered tonight. Being quickly murdered was the most favorable ending to an encounter with a large group of orcs, and the hobbit doubted many would waste the opportunity to hurt and torment something smaller than them. Bilbo hadn't realized this until recently, but orcs were probably the most terrifying things he could imagine. They were the most cruel and least merciful creatures Bilbo had ever encountered. Just knowing there were probably more orcs out roaming the lands nearby made him feel sick with terror and dread.

Bilbo looked up as Thorin approached him. He hoped the dwarf didn't yell at him again. The way Bilbo saw it, he had done nothing wrong. When he noticed the orcs, it seemed like he had two choices, run toward Thorin, and probably get the dwarf killed, or run away from Thorin and only get himself killed. He still felt like he had made the right choice. Thorin had been completely asleep. He would have likely been too groggy to fight well even if Bilbo had yelled and awoken him. How could Bilbo have simply led the orcs right to the dwarf just to give himself a better chance at escape? That would have been cowardly and selfish. Thorin was right that it was usually best to face foes as a group, but sometimes that wasn't a choice.

Thorin stood before him now, looking down at the hobbit before speaking what was fortunately not another lecture. "Here," he offered the hobbit his cloak. "I'm not using it anyway. Warm yourself up."

The hobbit reached out a shaking hand and took the cloak. "Thank you, Thorin," Bilbo spoke in a small voice as he wrapped the cloak around himself with fumbling, trembling fingers. He held his breath as the dwarf knelt down in front of him pulling the cloak more securely around Bilbo's shoulders, looking him in the eyes, and then putting his hand gently against the hobbit's forehead.

"We're going to need to try to do something about that fever," Thorin spoke.

Bilbo nodded in agreement with the dwarf. "Probably just sleep it off," he suggested in a voice that almost shook as he shivered.

"I'll build up this fire and you'll be warmer in no time," Thorin offered a quick smile as he stood back up.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Bilbo frowned. "What if-" he hesitated. He didn't want to seem scared...but he was scared, "Well... what if there are more orcs nearby? What if they see the fire?"

Thorin shook his head. "Those orcs didn't seem to be part of a larger group, or else they probably would have taken you back to their companions, but if there are any other orcs nearby they likely won't even see the fire, since it's inside the cave. I also somehow doubt many intelligent creatures would venture into Mirkwood if they didn't have to, not that orcs are especially intelligent," he assured the frightened hobbit, "but if any do come, I will defend you. You needn't worry."

The hobbit continued frowning as the dwarf made his way back toward the fire. That didn't make him feel better. Thorin hadn't discounted the possibility that more orcs may find them, and the idea of the dwarf fighting off orcs all on his own didn't sound ideal. They were supposed to be a company of fourteen, and Bilbo had thought Gandalf would even be among them when their journey had begun. He hadn't ever dreamed he'd be out in the middle of a confounded forest with just himself, a dwarf who seemed to rather dislike him most of the time, countless orcs roaming in the shadows, and who knows what other vile creatures.

"Bilbo," Thorin spoke up again after a moment, glancing up from the fire he was again working on building up. He must have noticed that Bilbo was worried, "You'll be alright. Just try to get some rest. I won't let anything get to you."

Though he was still quite reasonably frightened, Bilbo was too exhausted and hurt to keep himself awake much longer. He didn't want to fall asleep, for fear he'd wake up to orcs all around him, but he supposed he could rest his eyes, if only for a moment. So he leaned his head back against the cave's wall, and let his eyes close...

... ...

Thorin frowned as paced across the cave and knelt down in front of his burglar. Bilbo was leaning back against the cave's wall, apparently asleep, but shivering as he lay there. The position he was in certainly didn't look comfortable, and he was obviously still cold. It didn't help that the cloak Thorin had given him was falling off the hobbit's shoulders as he lay slumped against the wall.

The dwarf grabbed his own bag and kneaded it with his hands so that the clothing inside was in a proper position for the entire bag to be used as a pillow. He laid the bag on the ground near Bilbo, and a bit closer to the fire and carefully maneuvered the hobbit so that his head was laying on it. Now laying on the ground instead of propped up against the cave's wall, Bilbo would be more comfortable. Thorin then wrapped his cloak tighter around the hobbit, who curled in on himself slightly and continued to shiver.

Frowning, Thorin took off his own coat and draped it over the hobbit's small, shaking form. They couldn't travel if Bilbo was sick. Well, of course they _could_, but the halfling had suffered enough and Thorin hoped he would be feeling better before they needed to move on. If he could do something to make the hobbit well again, he certainly wanted to do so.

Thorin reached his hand out to the hobbit's forehead, checking to see if his fever was any better. Bilbo's skin was still much warmer than it should have been, but hopefully the dwarf's heavy coat would warm him up and break his fever. With one hand still on Bilbo's forehead, Thorin used his other to tuck his coat around the hobbit's shoulders, in an effort to keep every bit of chill air off of him.

It was then that he noticed the hobbit flinching slightly underneath his touch, and mumbling soft whimpers in his sleep. "Don't..." the hobbit squeaked in an out-of-breath voice. Thorin moved his hands back and frowned, wondering for a moment if Bilbo was speaking to him, "No... leave Thorin alone," he groaned in a soft, shaking voice.

"Bilbo, you're alright," Thorin assured the sleeping hobbit, hoping his words might bring the halfling out of his nightmares.

"Thorin," Bilbo's voice sounded so hurt and the dwarf could swear he saw tears building up under the hobbit's eyelashes.

Thorin sat himself down next to the hobbit and put his hand gently on Bilbo's shoulder. "Everything is alright," he promised once more. He really didn't want to wake the hobbit if he didn't have to, but if Bilbo continued to act like this, Thorin figured he might need to. Bilbo would get no rest if he was plagued by nightmares all night.

Fortunately, Thorin's words and his hand on the hobbit's shoulder seemed to have calmed him.

Thorin sighed and leaned back against the wall as he observed the hobbit. By now, bruises were forming all over him from his run in with the orcs. The hobbit's face had small scratches and marks on both sides and his lip looked slightly swollen. The dwarf didn't doubt that the orcs had likely hit the little halfling upside the head, and probably more than just once. It pained him to think that anyone could just strike Bilbo like that. The hobbit's innocence broke Thorin's heart. The thought of Bilbo, all alone and up against six, large, horrible, violent orcs made Thorin feel angry. The little hobbit had been completely at the mercy of these creatures, these creatures who were well known to be among the very least-merciful in all of Middle Earth. Orcs were entirely cruel, and Thorin couldn't understand it.

The two of them definitely needed to discuss how exactly keeping watch should go down in the future, as it seemed there was not nearly enough communication between them. Thorin certainly wanted to avoid anything like this happening again. When Bilbo kept watch, he needed to stay near enough to Thorin that he could call out for help if he needed to. Thorin needed to be made aware of any perceived danger immediately. That was the main purpose of keeping watch over a camp, after all, to inform the group of approaching danger. Even if the group was only made up of Bilbo and Thorin. The hobbit keeping watch did no good if he simply lured danger away from camp and faced it alone.

With a tired sigh, Thorin stood and made his way toward the mouth of the cave, sitting down and looking out into the night. Bilbo needed to be protected; that much was clear, and even if the hobbit didn't want to admit it or ask for help, Thorin was going to be ready to give him any assistance or protection he required.

The thought of the little hobbit being in danger like he had been tonight ripped at Thorin's heart. While he had been frustrated at Bilbo for getting himself into such a dangerous situation, he was also very frustrated with himself. From the very first moment he met Bilbo, he knew the hobbit was not like any other of Thorin's company. He didn't know how to travel safely. He had no experience keeping watch, fighting goblins, orcs, or trolls, or climbing mountains, or even riding a pony. The hobbit hadn't even brought a weapon with him, or armor, or anything that would imply that he expected to find danger on this journey. All of this was new to Bilbo, which was all the more reason Thorin felt like maybe he shouldn't have expected the hobbit to know how to do any of it. Keeping watch seemed like a very straight-forward, easy task to Thorin, but he'd kept watch so many times in his life. Bilbo hadn't, and clearly needed some tips on how to do the job effectively and safely.

As easy as it was to be furious with Bilbo for wandering too far from the camp site and getting himself cornered by orcs, Thorin found he was feeling more and more angry with himself with each passing minute. He should have been more clear when explaining how Bilbo was to keep watch. The hobbit didn't know how to do these things, and that was in no way Bilbo's fault. Though the dwarf knew, logically, this situation was no one's fault but the horrible, violent orcs who had needlessly cornered and tortured his burglar, he still felt guilty for not taking more precautionary measures. Out of everyone in their company, Bilbo was the most vulnerable, and Thorin couldn't help but feel that he should have done more to protect him.

He glanced back toward his burglar, who was breathing softly as he slept toward the back of the cave. He was almost completely covered by Thorin's coat and cloak, with only his curls visible to Thorin. He still worried that Bilbo might not have seen this situation as Thorin had. The hobbit had been lucky to make it out of this with just a dislocated shoulder and some superficial scratches. While Thorin would have loved for Bilbo to have the luxury of never having to even think about what orcs were capable of, the hobbit couldn't afford to remain ignorant to the race of orcs anymore, not while he was out here in the wild.

Looking out into the dark forest once more, Thorin closed his eyes tiredly for a moment and shook his head to himself. There was no use staying angry, at himself or at Bilbo, or even at the orcs, as they were dead and no longer a threat. The important thing was that Bilbo was safe now, and Thorin wasn't going to let something like this happen again. Even so, the guilty feeling didn't leave him entirely just yet...

_**xxxxxx**_

_**Please review, and I'll work on preparing the next chapter. :)**_


	10. Understanding

_**Once again, hullo and welcome back. :) Thank you for your continued support in reading and reviewing my story. I can't say this enough - your reviews are what motivate me to proof-read and post the next chapters quicker. When I see others are excited about the story, it helps me stay excited about it too, so thank you again.**_

_**Here's the next chapter. I hope everyone likes it:**_

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With a small gasp, Bilbo forced his tired eyes open. Had he fallen asleep? He certainly hadn't meant to, and had honestly felt as though he'd be too frightened to sleep, but it seemed like somehow his exhaustion had won over his desire to stay awake.

Presently, his mind felt muddled, and he wasn't quite sure if he was safe right now. He could vaguely remember countless horrible orcs ambushing him in the cold, cruel, relentless woods, and Thorin being in some sort of danger... The orcs were going to kill the dwarf, and Bilbo could do nothing but beg them not to. But then, he realized now that he wasn't out in the cold, dark woods, and there were no orcs surrounding him; he was in the same cave as before, and felt relatively warm and safe... the rest of that must have only been in his nightmares.

With a relieved sigh, he looked around himself as he came back to reality. It seemed he was lying down now rather than sitting up and leaning back against the cave's wall as he had been the last he'd been awake. Still curled up on the ground, he looked around the cave as best as his current position would allow. The fire Thorin had been working on earlier was much larger and well organized now, and Thorin sat near the cave's entrance, looking out into the night.

Bilbo felt warmer now. He looked down to find that the cloak Thorin had handed him earlier was wrapped tightly around him. On top of that was Thorin's thick coat, and Thorin's bag of clothing and supplies had been placed under his head. The hobbit snuggled further under the coat as he peered across the cave at the dwarf's back. He was quite surprised that Thorin had handed over his coat. Surely the dwarf was cold.

Honestly, Bilbo wasn't sure when the last time he felt so warm and safe had been, regardless of the fact that the torment the orcs had put him through was still fresh in his mind. He knew Thorin wasn't invincible, but he was certainly strong, and definitely loyal to his friends. Bilbo could see that the dwarf would do anything to keep his company out of danger, and each day Bilbo spent with the dwarves, he felt more and more like he was a legitimate part of that company. No matter how many times Thorin grumbled at him or gave him a strange look, there would be moments here and there that showed that the dwarf did have some bit of respect for him, and Bilbo was confident that Thorin really would do as he said, and protect Bilbo as best as he could.

Even so, Bilbo couldn't help but feel a dreadful feeling in his chest, knowing that he still didn't feel at ease about Thorin's apparent disappointment in him. He wanted to set things straight, to tell Thorin that he stood by his own actions, and to inform the dwarf that he was not as ignorant to orc behavior as Thorin seemed to think. Bilbo knew what the orcs would have done to him if they'd kept him captive. He knew so well that it made him shudder just thinking about. Perhaps he didn't know all the details, but he knew enough. He hadn't distracted the orcs from the dwarf simply out of his own ignorance to what orcs were capable of. He'd done it to save his friend from the same fate he himself had seemed doomed to. He wanted Thorin to know that Bilbo wasn't as naive as the dwarf implied. But he didn't want to argue, and really didn't want to be yelled at again. However, he knew he wouldn't feel right until he spoke to the dwarf.

"Thorin," Bilbo finally squeaked in a small voice as he pulled himself up into a sitting position and scooted back so that he could lean against the cave's wall, but kept the warm garments wrapped tightly around himself.

He watched as the dwarf quickly stood up and made his way back toward Bilbo. "What is it?" Thorin asked, concern marking his features,"Are you feeling alright? Are you warm enough?"

Bilbo swallowed a lump in his throat. "I'm okay," he answered.

"Very good," Thorin smiled down at him, putting his hand on the hobbit's forehead again. "You're feeling cooler," he noted. "Do you think you'll be up for moving on in the morning?"

Bilbo shrugged. As much as he wanted to stay hidden from the outside world forever, he knew they needed to move on, sooner rather than later if they wanted to reunite with the others. "I suppose so," he finally agreed.

Thorin frowned. "You are feeling better, are you not?" he wondered.

"Well, yes," Bilbo hesitated. "I just... I know there are more orcs out there in the world, and they could be anywhere... I never took the threat as seriously before. I never knew they would seek people out just to hurt them. I mean, I did... I'd read about them and heard tales and all... They just weren't ever real before. To me, they were always just monsters in stories, villains in books. I never dreamed I'd ever actually meet an orc, and was not at all prepared for being all alone and cornered by a whole group of them."

"You will be safe as long as we stay together," Thorin insisted. "I've dealt with orcs many times before, and am fully capable of defending you."

"You're not invincible, Thorin... and I'm certainly not either. How can we defend ourselves if we're severely outnumbered? The rest of our company is gone. It's just you and me. Just two, against however many orcs are out there." Bilbo closed his eyes and shook his head. "Thorin, what if there come more orcs than we can handle?" he spoke in a small voice, remembering his nightmares.

"I've been traveling in the wild for years, Bilbo," Thorin offered a small smile. "Nothing has defeated me yet. I know you're scared, and that's okay, but you needn't worry to excess. I am capable of keeping you safe, and I'll do my best to do just that. Of course I cannot guarantee it, but I promise to do what I can, and I can give you my word that you'll never be left behind or given up on. As long as there is breath in my lungs, I will not allow orcs to hurt you ever again."

Bilbo swallowed. "I'm not afraid of them," he lied. Of course he was afraid of orcs, "I mean... I am, but uh..." he didn't know what exactly to say, "I know you're a good fighter, Thorin, but how could you not be terrified at the thought of an entire army cornering us? Just us. Just you and me... What will we do if that happens? Already we had to take on a group of six, and I'm all but useless in fighting them. How many would have been more than you could handle? This was a close call not just for me, but for you as well. They could have over-powered you... Six huge orcs... against just you? You could have easily been killed."

"It's wise to fear orcs, Bilbo," Thorin spoke with a reassuring had on the hobbit's shoulder. "I fear them as well. No one should ever hope to cross paths with them if it can be avoided. What I mean to say is, while you need not be paralyzed by your fear of them, it's not at all unreasonable to feel afraid. Stay alert and prepared; use your fear to keep yourself safe. Don't let it paralyze you. We will move cautiously until we meet back up with the others. As long as we don't run into an entire army, and as long as you stay close, you'll be safe. I would never expect you to be fearless. I was actually quite disturbed when you seemed to brush this whole incident off as unimportant. Orcs need to be feared, especially by those who aren't able to fend them off."

"I never did that." Bilbo frowned and shook his head, "At no point did I say the issue of orcs wasn't important, nor did I brush any incident off as though it didn't matter."

"You are from a far different place than I, Mr. Baggins." Thorin raised an eyebrow at the hobbit, "You grew up in comfort and safety, where orcs were only a scary story. I don't blame you for not fully understanding the danger you were in. You have no idea what those orcs could have done to you, what they would have done if given the opportunity. You are lucky to have escaped with your life, and even luckier you're not still their captive. It's okay that you didn't understand the peril you were in. I was frustrated with you before, but I shouldn't have been, and may have been too harsh. How could you have understood something you'd never experienced before? Just as long as you understand now, that's what's important. We can't change the past, but we can take necessary precaution to ensure nothing like this happens again."

"You're wrong, Thorin." Bilbo shook his head, "I understood very well, and need no further explanation than my own experience... I didn't know much about orcs when I grew up... You're right about that much. I never feared them when I played outside or when I tended my garden. I could walk home from the pub, all by myself at night and never worry that something sinister might leap out of the shadows... But I knew tonight how much danger I was in. I knew very well. I could have called out to you at any time. You were probably close enough to hear me if I screamed loud enough, but I knew what the orcs were capable of, and I didn't want to drag you into it."

Thorin simply stared at him as Bilbo continued. The hobbit was glad the dwarf was allowing him to contradict him without protest.

"You weren't there, Thorin," Bilbo frowned as he remembered the horrible orcs along with all their threats. "You didn't hear the things they said to me. As you may know, orcs tend to like to gloat... You probably know that they enjoy talking all about what they're about to do to you before they do it. I knew exactly what danger I was in, because they told me. They said they'd keep me around and make me suffer, and that my death wouldn't be quick. I knew that they'd probably end up breaking my fingers, or maybe even end up cutting them off. I knew that they'd get their knives out and cut me with them, that they'd burn me with fire, and that they'd cut out my tongue, and even eat me for dinner. They can be quite descriptive..." He offered a slight laugh, though he honestly found no humor in the situation at all. It was a nervous laugh, the kind he'd offer when he was entirely uncomfortable, but didn't want to seem so.

Thorin stared at him, but didn't speak. He looked to be searching Bilbo's eyes, which made the hobbit squirm a bit. What was the dwarf looking for?

"So..." Bilbo cleared his throat and averted his eyes, "If I seemed like I wasn't taking the situation seriously, it wasn't because I didn't understand it. In fact, I don't know if I've ever been more scared in my entire life."

The dwarf sighed heavily, "I apologize. I see now that your apparent lack of concern was more likely another side affect of your fear. I had no right to assume that the orcs did not make you fully aware of their intentions. It is bad enough that those orcs treated you with such cruelty. You deserve better from a friend. You are a brave hobbit, and I should learn to treat you with the respect you deserve, and that you've earned. I feared you did not understand the dangers around you, but I see now that you do. You knew what you were up against, but you chose to face it anyway."

Bilbo stared at the dwarf with wide eyes. Hearing Thorin apologize to him was rather foreign, and he certainly did not know how to respond.

Thorin sat down next to Bilbo so that their shoulders were touching as they both looked out toward the exit of the cave, "I didn't mean to be so harsh with my words before. For a moment I had thought I'd lost you. It was my own fear, manifesting itself as anger, that caused me to yell at you. We will stick together from now on," Thorin reminded him, putting his arm around Bilbo's shoulders and pulling the garments Bilbo was using to keep himself warm tighter around him. "I respect that you didn't want to get me involved. It was noble and brave, though perhaps very self-destructive, but I really hope you'll allow me to be involved if something like this happens again. You were hired as a burglar, not as a body guard or fighter. If anyone should be protecting the other from harm, it is I who should protect you. I did not bring you along as a lure to keep danger away from the rest of us. I understand that you feared for my well-being, but if something happened to you because you sought to keep me from the same danger that pursued you, I could not forgive myself. I would rather you put me at risk if it means I can help you than have you sacrifice yourself for my sake. If you were killed in my stead, the guilt I would face would be crushing. Please do not do that to me."

The hobbit leaned tiredly against the dwarf as he closed his tired eyes. "I'm sorry if it seems I'm sometimes reckless," Bilbo sighed. "This whole adventure thing is still new to me. I suppose I don't always do what I should. I tried to do what I thought was right."

Thorin leaned over and looked at the hobbit's face, narrowing his eyes and considering him, "Having someone who thinks differently from the rest of us isn't necessarily a bad thing. Gandalf suggested we bring you for a reason, and I'll see to it that you remain safely with our group so that your purpose may be fully fulfilled."

Bilbo shrugged. He still wasn't sure why Gandalf had invited him along, but maybe Thorin was right. Maybe he'd end up more useful than he presently felt. At any rate, he was beginning to feel better now, and certainly felt safer here with Thorin right now than he had at any other point in the night.

"Go ahead and get some rest, Bilbo," Thorin spoke.

The hobbit nodded. He'd get some sleep tonight, and they'd be on their way in the morning. Before he knew it, they'd be back with the rest of their company, maybe even sooner rather than later. Perhaps they'd even find everyone in the morning. "I have a good feeling about tomorrow," Bilbo spoke with a yawn as he snuggled against Thorin's side. "I'll bet they're still nearby."

_**xxxxxx**_

_**Please leave me a review. :) They are like oxygen to the story. The more reviews the story gets, the better it feels. And if it gets few or no reviews, it struggles to even live... I've seen stories die from lack of reviews. It's a horrible tragedy. No story should go like that. :'(**_


	11. Silk

_**Hi. Thanks for the reviews, and sorry for taking so long to update. I hope you're all still out there...**_

_**xxx11xxx**_

Upon waking in the morning, Bilbo felt infinitely better than he had the night before, in terms of sickness at least. He found as soon as he got up and stretched his arms and legs that his entire body was quite sore from having been knocked about so harshly the previous evening. The claw marks on his chest still stung and his swollen wrist still throbbed when he moved it even just a little. But he didn't feel dizzy and light-headed anymore. He didn't feel as though he was on the verge of fainting, and he no longer constantly shivered.

"Are you feeling fit to move on?" Thorin asked him as Bilbo joined the dwarf by the dying fire. It was mostly just ashes by now.

Bilbo looked out the mouth of the cave. The bodies of the orcs lay right there... He hadn't even considered that last night. It made him shudder to think he had slept so near the corpses of his tormentors. "Yes, I think so," he finally answered, "but I don't know how I feel about leaving the forest..."

Thorin looked at him and nodded, "I was thinking the same thing. It's easy to get lost here, but it seems there is more danger outside of the trees than within them. The orcs who cornered you, they weren't in the forest when they found you, correct?"

"That's right," Bilbo spoke. "They were walking along outside of the woods, and if those six were there, isn't there a fair chance there are more where they came from?"

"It's possible." Thorin looked at him, "It may in fact be worth the risk of getting lost again to avoid running into more of them. While I'm confident I could fend off orcs if need be, there's no reason to seek them out. If we can avoid them, I would like to do so. And of course, getting all the way around the forest without going through it would cost us so much time. If we ever wish to reunite with our company, then taking the path through the forest will probably be our way to do so. They very well may think us dead and move on without us if we make them wait too long."

Bilbo sighed and nodded. As much as he wanted to be out of this forest forever, he knew time was not on their side. Going through the forest would be quicker than going around, assuming of course that they only got sort of lost, and not entirely. But more importantly, he wanted to avoid orcs. Bilbo would have gladly gotten himself lost in this confounded forest for the rest of his life if it meant not seeing any more orcs. "Well, I'm ready to go when you are," the hobbit yawned.

Thorin smiled and clapped Bilbo on the shoulder, "We'll try to make good time today, but let me know if you need to rest. I won't hold it against you."

Bilbo nodded. "I think I'll be fine," he smiled. "Once I get moving, at least. My limbs feel a bit sore at the moment, but probably just from having lain still for so long."

The dwarf narrowed his eyes, "I should check your wounds before we go."

Hesitating, Bilbo looked down. He really didn't like to be fussed over. "I feel fine," he insisted.

"It's not good to let these things go unchecked," Thorin spoke. "I would feel much better knowing that the scratches have remained clean and uninfected. May I see them?"

Bilbo sighed, "I suppose..." He didn't need to unbutton his shirt, as the orc had torn the top few buttons right off last night. Instead, he simply pulled his shirt open and let Thorin maneuver the makeshift bandages slightly to the side. Bilbo held his breath as he watched Thorin's eyes look him over. The wounds still stung, of course. He hoped they weren't worse than they had been last night.

"They don't seem infected," Thorin spoke as he considered the scratches, "but I'd like if you'd allow me to keep an eye on them periodically. The orc could have certainly done much worse damage to you, and the marks aren't exceptionally deep, but they are deep enough that they should be taken seriously. Orcs aren't exactly the cleanest creatures either. Infection is a very real possibility, and especially with us traveling outside like this."

Bilbo frowned. "Do you think they'll leave scars?" he wondered. It's not like his chest was ever really exposed in public, but the thought of scars made him feel somewhat sick. He didn't want to have to see those marks every time he bathed or got undressed, to be reminded of those terrible orcs even when he was back home safe in The Shire.

Thorin shrugged. "I couldn't say for sure," he noted. "I would suppose even if they did leave scars, they would be faint. We'll keep the wounds clean and bandaged, just to be sure."

"Alright," Bilbo sighed and grabbed his coat off the floor, putting it on carefully to avoid bumping his injured wrist. He didn't bother buttoning the coat though, as moving his fingers on one hand hurt him, and buttoning the jacket with just one hand would have been too difficult. And of course, he didn't want to ask Thorin for help in getting dressed. He'd feel like a fool.

"Are you ready to get going?" Thorin asked, putting his hand on Bilbo's shoulder and looking into his eyes.

The hobbit nodded.

"Remember to tell me if you require rest," Thorin reminded him. "The last thing we need is for you to be unwell."

And with that, they gathered up their belongings and went on their way...

... ... ...

It didn't seem like they had been walking for long when Bilbo noticed something strange. They had entered into a portion of woods that seemed to be coated in some sort of sticky webbing. It almost seemed like spider webs, but it was much too plenty to be that. Unless there were thousands of spiders, or quite a few literally giant ones, the massive quantity of sticky substance couldn't possibly be spider webs. Perhaps it was just some sort of residue from a strange, foreign plant.

"What do you suppose this stuff is?" Bilbo wondered as he plucked a sticky string which stretched from one tree limb to another. The substance seemed to want to stick to his finger, but it stuck harder to the tree than to him, fortunately.

"Looks like spider webs to me," Thorin noted.

Bilbo frowned and shook his head, "but it isn't... It can't be."

"Oh, yes it can, Mr. Baggins," Thorin raised his eyebrow as he spoke. "Have you never read anything about Mirkwood?"

Bilbo gulped, "No... I've read and heard a great deal of stories about the world in general, but not Mirkwood in particular. Does this forest have a particularly large population of spiders?" the hobbit asked with a nervous laugh.

"Not large in regard to quantity, no, but perhaps in regards to size, yes," Thorin answered.

Bilbo raised his eyebrow as he stared over to Thorin. "Are-" he hesitated, "are you trying to tell me there are giant spiders in these woods?"

Thorin shrugged, "I've never seen them myself, but I've heard stories."

"Surely they aren't true though," Bilbo looked nervously around himself. He couldn't bring himself to believe that there were such thing as giant spiders. Not any more giant than say, smaller than his fist. He looked back at the dwarf, "People embellish on their stories sometimes..."

"But not always, Mr. Baggins," Thorin reminded him. "Many stories are quite true. Just think about it. Before you came on this quest, if someone had told you about all the things you've seen thus far, trolls, stone giants, an entire underground town of goblins... would you have believed them? Middle Earth is a very big place, full of much more than you may have ever dreamed. I'm fairly certain the spider stories aren't exaggeration. I knew a dwarf who claimed to have seen them."

The hobbit felt his shoulders slump, "I wish I would have known that this morning. I may have rather taken my chances with the orcs than risk running into giant spiders... Just how giant are they?" he was beginning to feel panicked. While Bilbo didn't mind spiders so much when they were small, any spider larger than his hand would have surely terrified him, and judging by these webs, the spiders of which Thorin spoke were much larger than the hobbit's little hands.

"Like I said," Thorin spoke with a shrug, "I've not seen them."

Bilbo frowned and glanced down at Sting, which hung off his belt. It was not glowing, which only meant there were no orcs nearby. He didn't suppose the sword would warn him of spiders, no matter how giant they were.

"Thorin!" Bilbo nearly yelled as he looked ahead. Not ten yards in front of them lay what looked to be a small pile of very large spiders, lying on their backs, with their legs stiffly in the air. The spiders were very quite literally larger than Bilbo, larger than Thorin even. Maybe larger even than the orcs the hobbit had encountered last night. He cringed, taking a step back so that he bumped into the dwarf's chest, "Oh my... They are huge... Impossibly and horrifyingly huge... Thorin, I've changed my mind. I think we should go around the woods instead of through it."

The dwarf shook his head, but began to make his way toward the dead spiders. "Someone has fought these spiders," he noted. "They didn't simply die on their own... Perhaps our company passed through. This may be their work," he began searching the area around the fallen creatures.

Bilbo cautiously made his way over toward the dwarf, cringing as he got close to one of the spiders. It seemed even bigger now that he stood next to it. He looked around the ground, for any signs of the dwarves. He wasn't really an expert in tracking people, so he nearly gasped with excitement when he happened upon a possible lead. "Thorin!" he yelled as he ran over to a small knife he saw lying on the ground. "Isn't this Fili's?" he picked it up and showed it to the dwarf.

Thorin considered the dagger, nodding slowly before glancing around the scene some more, "Why would he have left it behind?" he muttered more to himself than to Bilbo.

"Must have not known he dropped it," Bilbo shrugged, placing the knife on his own belt before looking around the scene some more, "I wouldn't imagine it would be difficult to misplace a small weapon while battling horrible, giant spiders... I'm sure it was quite hectic."

"This spider has arrows in it," Thorin grumbled.

"Kili probably killed that one," Bilbo noted. "You know, I never knew dwarves fought with bows and arrows before I met your company. I never knew much about the different races of the world. Of course, it seems silly now, but I was once under the impression that dwarves fought with axes, men with swords, and elves with bows. In that case, I don't know what hobbits would fight with. Perhaps just stones. We aren't really fighters in general."

"Bilbo," Thorin interrupted him, his eyes still on the arrows sticking out of the spider, "these aren't Kili's arrows. These are elf arrows."

Bilbo frowned, "Oh... perhaps it's just a coincidence that Fili dropped his dagger here either before or after the elves battled the spiders. Or do you think they worked alongside the elves to defeat these creatures."

Thorin shook his head, "Dwarves and elves don't often work well together."

"Why not?" Bilbo frowned.

"Elves and dwarves don't exactly have a good history between their two races," Thorin explained, "but I fear for our company's sake. We should try to track them. Find these elves and make sure our friends weren't taken in by them."

"You mean as prisoners?" Bilbo's eyes widened, "Would elves really do that?"

"Some might," Thorin spoke.

Bilbo frowned as he looked up at Thorin, just in time to see a very large spider slowly stalking up behind him. "Thorin!" Bilbo screamed, "Look out!"

The dwarf spun around quickly, just in time to avoid being bitten by the spider, which made a horrifying shrieking sound before lunging at him again. Thorin unsheathed his sword and swung it at the spider, which dodged the blow and then jumped back toward the dwarf again. This spider was huge, and fast, and clearly wasn't going to go down without a fight. Bilbo had to help Thorin.

Before the spider saw him, and while Thorin was distracted, Bilbo slipped on his ring and readied Sting for battle.

The hobbit moved slowly and carefully toward the ongoing scuffle. Thorin was able to effectively keep the spider from killing him, but he was having no success at actually landing a blow himself either. The spider was simply too fast. But it wasn't too fast for Bilbo, who it could not see. The hobbit stood a few feet away, slightly behind Thorin, waiting for an opportunity to jump in and help. Even with his advantage of invisibility, this battle was still quite intimidating to him. Thorin and the spider were moving back and forth, so brutally against each other. If Bilbo stepped in at the wrong time, the spider would bump into him. It would know he was there. Or worse yet, if he got in the way, Thorin might just hit him on accident, and the dwarf tended to swing his sword with full force. Bilbo didn't want to get caught in that crossfire.

He watched with wonder as Thorin knocked the spider backward, but the spider jumped right back up and leaped at Thorin at a terrifyingly rapid speed. Would this battle ever end?

As the dwarf swung Orcrist at the spider's torso, but couldn't quite land the blow, Bilbo stepped to the side and focused on damaging the spider's legs. It couldn't jump at Thorin if its legs were cut in half.

In-taking a breath, Bilbo swung Sting harshly at one of the spider's back legs. He knew he had struck the creature when he both felt the sickening thud of his sword connecting with the spider's leg, as well as heard a pained shriek from the wicked monster. Bilbo would have felt guilty if this spider hadn't attacked Thorin first. Hacking at a living creature's leg was certainly not something Bilbo would do if he didn't have to.

Thorin seemed confused then, but continued to fight the spider, which seemed even more angry now. He began aiming at the spider's legs as well, following Bilbo's lead. He managed to hack off the lower portion of one of the creature's front legs before it viciously leaped forward at him without remorse, knocking the dwarf to the ground and creating a sickening shrieking sound.

Bilbo's eyes widened as he noticed Thorin's sword fall out of the dwarf's hand and scuttle across the forest's ground. He had to act now if he didn't want Thorin to be killed.

Ordinarily, Bilbo would have been terrified. He would have likely panicked, for so many reasons. He would have feared for his friend's safety. He would have feared for his own safety. On a normal day, Bilbo would have likely been too horrified to move. But not today. Today he felt courage, from he knew not where. Thorin seemed to bring that out in him somehow. Being courageous was much easier when a friend's life depended on it.

With a strange little battle cry, Bilbo leaped right on top of the spider, slamming Sting down into its back and through where its heart hopefully was. Truthfully, Bilbo wasn't sure where a spider's heart really even was in its body. But he assumed its middle would be where its important organs lay, so that is where he struck, and it seemed to work.

With a loud, horrible shriek, the spider shuddered and fell, landing right on top of Thorin, and causing Bilbo to fall off of it and tumble to the ground. The hobbit quickly removed his ring and tucked it back into his coat pocket, not wanting to have to explain it to the dwarf. He lay on his back on the ground where he had landed, his heart pounding and his breaths rapid as he stared up into the forest's canopy. He could barely believe what had just happened. He had just killed a spider which was larger than he was. Of all the things he had been certain he'd never do in his life, that was high on the list.

"Bilbo!" Thorin called out in surprise as he pushed the spider off himself, reclaimed Orcrist, and made his way over to the hobbit. "I wasn't sure where you had gotten to. I thought for sure you had run off."

"I couldn't leave you behind, Thorin," Bilbo frowned as he dragged himself to his feet. He was a little offended that the dwarf had even considered that the hobbit would abandon him at such a time.

"I should have more faith in you, Mr. Baggins, as you continuously prove your dedication and loyalty," Thorin spoke. "You are without a doubt the bravest hobbit I've ever met."

Bilbo couldn't help but smile, though he wasn't sure he would have been so brave if he hadn't had the ring, and if he hadn't been so scared. It had been some sort of adrenaline rush that allowed him to go after the spider when his instincts would have surely told him to run, if he had even felt any of his instincts. Lately it seemed every natural instinct the hobbit had was no longer speaking to him.

Just when Bilbo thought everything was finally okay again, he heard a voice he did not recognize. "Thorin Oakenshield, I would venture to guess," an elegant, even voice rang out from somewhere behind him.

Both Thorin and Bilbo turned toward the voice in time to see a very un-amused-looking elf standing on top of a slightly elevated bit of land. He had long, light hair and piercing blue eyes. He looked somewhat angry, and was surrounded by several other elves, all of them armed with bows and arrows. Though the elves did not aim their weapons at the dwarf and hobbit, they did keep the bows in their hands, likely only as a reminder.

As soon as Thorin had has his eyes on the elf, a bit of recognition settled on his face as his shoulders slumped. It seemed Thorin knew this elf. Or maybe any elf would have caused the dwarf's demeanor to fall. As Bilbo certainly knew, Thorin was not a fan of elves in general. But Bilbo liked them, or at least, he liked the ones in Rivendell. These elves looked kind of angry, especially the tall one in the center.

Bilbo wanted to put his ring back on and disappear, and he honestly may have if he had been here alone. But he couldn't leave Thorin. That, and of course, putting the ring on in clear view of these strange elves just didn't seem like a wise idea.

"I am Thranduil," the elf in the center spoke as his scanned Bilbo and then Thorin. "We ran into a rather large lot of dwarves right here late yesterday evening," he explained, "and they informed us that their leader was still lost in the forest, along with a hobbit." Thranduil raised his eyebrows very slightly and gave Bilbo a scrutinizing look, "They asked us to come look for you, as they feared for your well-being."

Thorin scowled. "Where are they?" he wondered. "Which of my company told you to come look for us?"

"They are back at our home. Not to worry, they are quite safe," a second elf spoke. This one had light brown hair which hung only a few inches lower than his shoulders, "We can take you to them."

Bilbo looked over to Thorin, waiting for the dwarf to read the situation appropriately and decide what action to take.

"We would ask that you give up your weapons for the time being," Thranduil ordered with narrowed eyes, "as we do not know you, and if you're coming into our home, we see no reason why you would need to be armed. We live in a safe place. I assure you of this."

Bilbo took a step back. He didn't like the sound of this. Thorin had told him already that elves and dwarves weren't the greatest of friends. Would it even be safe for them to go with these strange elves? If the elves didn't like dwarves in general, how would they feel toward hobbits? Hobbits were small, closer to the size of dwarves than elves... And hobbits valued food, singing, dancing, and cheer. Elves seemed so serious... Would Bilbo be just a small dwarf to them? Would they hate him too?

"Very well," Thorin finally agreed, laying Orcrist carefully on the ground in front of him. "You may have our weapons for the time being. I will expect to be given them back as soon as we depart."

"Of course," Thranduil nodded. "Belegurdir," he ordered the light-brown-haired elf, "collect their weapons, please."

The elf whom Bilbo now knew was named Belegurdir stepped down and picked up Orcrist, looking it over and carefully considering it before sheathing it on his own belt. He seemed rather impressed by it. He then stepped in front of Bilbo, who sighed and reluctantly offered Sting to him. Belegurdir seemed mildly interested by the hobbit's sword as well. "How came you by these weapons?" the young elf wondered.

"They were in a troll cave," Bilbo spoke before he really thought about whether or not Thorin would have preferred that information to be kept quiet. It was too late for that now though.

Belegurdir smiled down at him. "A very lucky find," he nodded. "Have you any more weapons on you? Either of you?"

Bilbo handed over Fili's knife which he had collected from the ground moments ago. He knew Thorin had other weapons too, but he wasn't going to be the one to inform the elves of that. He'd leave that up to the dwarf whether or not he wanted to forfeit his other weapons or attempt to keep them secret.

For a moment, Thorin didn't speak, but Thranduil stared at him knowingly, "I don't know of many dwarves who travel with a sword alone."

Thorin pulled a small axe out from under his coat, along with a dagger and tossed them onto the ground. He hesitated for a moment longer and then pulled another knife out from his boot and tossed it to the ground as well.

"Thank you, Thorin," Belegurdir bowed slightly toward the dwarf before collecting the weapons ad stowing them on his own belt. "Remember, we are only holding onto these for you, not taking them forever. You understand why we wouldn't want armed strangers in our place of dwelling."

That sounded reasonable enough to Bilbo, but Thorin still didn't seem happy.

"Hatholon, Dimaethor," Thranduil ordered another two of his comrades, "see to it that our guests keep up." He then turned away and began walking toward where Bilbo assumed the elves lived.

Bilbo and Thorin reluctantly followed, but there was no room for Bilbo to discuss what was happening with his comrade, not even in whispers. The elves were too close, so the hobbit and dwarf remained silent as they walked. Bilbo hoped the others were alright, and that he and Thorin would be alright as well. It worried him that someone in their company had told the elves to look for him and Thorin. The dwarves must have honestly feared for their leader and burglar to send elves to recover them.

The two elves Hatholon and Dimaethor walked near Thorin, keeping a close watch on the dwarf, while Bilbo was all but ignored. They must have not been so worried about what the hobbit might do. The brown-haired elf, Belegurdir, however, did walk next to Bilbo, but didn't watch him as though expecting him to pull any stunt. Instead, the elf simply made small talk with him.

"I can't say I've ever honestly seen a hobbit before," he spoke in a kind, lighthearted voice. "I mean no offense, but I was under the impression that hobbits prefer to keep to quiet, safe lives in the Shire."

Bilbo shrugged. "I was under that impression too," he laughed, "until recently."

The elf offered him a smile, "Well, your presence is certainly curious. I won't pry though."

"Thank you," Bilbo smiled. He wouldn't have minded telling the elf what he was doing traveling with the dwarves if this were his quest alone. This elf seemed harmless, after all, but Bilbo had a feeling Thorin would want him to keep quiet. The elf seemed friendly, but Bilbo really did not know him, and Thorin seemed very weary of all the elves. It was probably best that Bilbo kept as quiet as he could.

_**xxxxxx**_

_***Gasp!* Elves!**_

_**Note: I made up all the elves in this except Thranduil. I don't mean for any of them to steal focus in any way and they are pretty much just plot devices.**_


	12. Home of the Wood Elves

_**xxx12xxx**_

As soon as they reached the home of the wood elves, any feeling of safety Bilbo felt among these new hosts was immediately gone.

"I wish to speak with you, alone," Thranduil spoke to Thorin. "Belegurdir, please see to it that the hobbit gets something to eat, and give him a room as we did for the dwarves," he ordered his companion, while giving him a knowing look that made Bilbo nervous. There seemed to be some ulterior meaning lying under his words.

Though Thorin gave Bilbo a look of slight concern, the dwarf willingly turned and left along with Thranduil. They didn't have much choice but to comply, considering the elves were armed, the dwarf and hobbit were not, and Thorin and Bilbo were very much outnumbered. That, and if they wanted to be informed of the whereabouts of the other dwarves, they would probably need to cooperate. Bilbo also supposed it might be nice to restock on some provisions and have a warm place to sleep for the night, if the elves would be willing to offer such hospitality.

Bilbo frowned as he looked up at Belegurdir, the brown-haired elf who had spoken kindly to him before. The hobbit was feeling a little betrayed now. Why wouldn't the elves just let them reunite with their company and send them on their way? What was the purpose of all the secrets? Why were they separating him from Thorin?

"Forgive me," the elf spoke to Bilbo has he put his hand on the hobbit's back and led him down a long hall, "but I haven't yet learned your name."

The hobbit hesitated. He really didn't owe this elf the answer to that question, but he supposed there would come nothing unsavory from telling the elf his name. The elves knew Thorin's name already. What harm would be caused by them knowing Bilbo's name as well? It's not like anyone in Middle Earth even knew who the hobbit was. His name would mean nothing to anyone. "I'm Bilbo Baggins," the hobbit spoke as he looked down at his feet. He hoped the elves wouldn't try to take his ring. They had already taken his weapon. He was surprised they hadn't searched him and Thorin. What if they still meant to? They'd never give the ring back... Bilbo didn't want to be here anymore. Couldn't he spend even a full day not captured by some enemy?

"I'm Belegurdir," the elf spoke, offering his hand to the hobbit as they walked.

Bilbo reluctantly offered his hand to the elf. Unfortunately, due to which hand the elf held out to him, it was Bilbo's injured hand he offered back without thinking of the consequence of using that arm. He held in a wince when the elf took his hand and shook it lightly.

Belegurdir's face immediately clouded with concern. "Are you alright?" he asked as he led Bilbo into a small room with a table and chairs. If it was a dining room, it was a private one, as only four chairs sat around the table. It wasn't a dining hall for but a small family.

Bilbo shrugged. "I'm fine," he assured the elf, though it was really none of his business. "We were lost in the wood for a bit, and ran into some trouble. It's nothing."

The elf nodded as he began going through a cabinet and arranging some food on a plate. "You and your companion look like you've encountered some rough travels," Belegurdir noted. "I notice you both look exhausted, and a little scuffed up. Especially you."

Bilbo looked down at his feet, not sure if he should be offended. Surely he didn't look that bad...

"Go ahead and have a seat," the elf offered, gesturing toward the table and chairs. "When's the last time you had something to eat?"

The hobbit sighed and thought about this. "Oh... well, it's been a while," he tried to remember, but he didn't really even know how long they had been lost in the forest. The last time he remembered eating was the morning they went into the woods, and he had no idea when that was. He simply looked back toward the elf and shrugged, "Other than some poisonous berries last night, I couldn't say... Perhaps two days ago?"

The elf looked shocked, "Poisonous berries?"

Bilbo laughed and nodded, "Only a little poisonous, and I didn't have many. The forest tricked me into seeing them as blackberries."

"Well, this should do you some good," the elf spoke as he placed a goblet and a plate in front of the hobbit. The cup was filled with clean water and the plate was covered in an assortment of fruit and bread. Belegurdir sat down next to Bilbo as the hobbit began to eat. "I hope you don't mind my asking, and I'll try not to pry, as your travels are none of my business, but..." the elf hesitated as he looked Bilbo over.

The hobbit popped a grape into his mouth and chewed as he stared up at the elf. "Yes?" he wondered, feeling much more talkative now that his stomach was finally being satisfied.

"Well," the elf stated again, "I can't imagine what a large group of dwarves would want with a hobbit... I mean no offense, but they are rather skilled fighters, generally speaking, and it seems like you would be more of a liability than an asset... I mean... well, that may have come out wrong; I'm sure you come with your own set of skills, but not those I could see dwarves valuing. I simply find myself perplexed as to why one single hobbit would be traveling with such a large band of tough, heavily armed, rough dwarves."

Bilbo laughed as he popped another grape in his mouth. He was too hungry and too happy to finally be eating to take offense at being called a liability. He had actually thought the same thing when the dwarves had come to his home and asked him to join them. He was certainly no warrior, but that was not why the dwarves had brought him. He couldn't exactly tell this elf that he had been brought along as a burglar though, so he simply shrugged.

"They didn't force you to go along with them, did they?" Belegurdir wondered with furrowed brows.

"No, no, not at all," Bilbo shook his head. "Well, they sort of pressured me into it... But it was my own decision. I even had a strong feeling at first that I wasn't even wanted, even after being asked to join them. The looks Thorin would give me," he shook his head and offered a dry, sarcastic laugh. "There were times I almost sneaked away and went back home."

The young elf nodded thoughtfully. "They are kind to you though, the dwarves?" he asked.

Bilbo shrugged as he tore a piece of bread off the rather sizable chunk that had been offered to him, "I suppose. For the most part. Traveling with such a large group and for such a long distance can really wear on people's patience and emotions. Every now and then someone can get a little hurtful, say something they don't mean or scowl when they shouldn't, but it's forgivable. No one is nice all the time."

Belegurdir narrowed his eyes at the hobbit and frowned. "Did Thorin do that to your arm?" he gestured toward Bilbo's wrist.

"What? No!" Bilbo nearly shouted. He tugged the sleeve of his shirt down to better cover his bruised wrist, "Of course not!"

The elf raised his hands in front of himself in defense, "I'm sorry... I meant nothing by it. The dwarves aren't known to be the most kind and gentle of creatures... When we found a dwarf traveling alone with a little hobbit, and with said hobbit covered in bruises and scrapes, and knowing that hobbits aren't common travelers or adventurers... I drew my own conclusions. But if you say the dwarves are treating you fairly, I believe you."

"They are," Bilbo frowned. "We ran into a group of orcs last night. They are the reason I look so scuffed up. Thorin saved me from them. He would never hurt me," he supposed this answered his earlier question, on whether the elves would consider him another dwarf. The answer, of course, was no. They thought the dwarves to be rough, horrible, violent creatures, and saw Bilbo as just a weak, useless liability, and perhaps even something vulnerable for the horrible, wicked dwarves to take advantage of and push around. It really made the hobbit angry that anyone could think such things of Thorin or the others, especially after Thorin had risked his life last night to save Bilbo from the very pain and suffering these elves seemed to think him capable of delivering. It was true that the dwarf had a short fuse and wasn't always in the greatest mood, but for anyone to think he would take advantage of and hurt someone smaller than him was just unthinkable. Bilbo frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I certainly didn't mean to offend you," the elf spoke in his own defense. "I can see you're upset, and that was not my intention. I only worried for your safety. I didn't want to allow you to go back with the dwarves if they were somehow using you for their own selfish reasons or taking advantage of your small stature and delighting in abusing you for their own amusement."

"You may have not wished to offend me," Bilbo spoke, "but you have done just that. You do not know me, and you certainly do not know Thorin or the others. It is not your place to make such assumptions, and your assumptions are foolish. Dwarves are not like that. Not at all. If you'd get to know them, you'd see that... Where are the other dwarves? If they are here, why haven't I heard or seen them? Did you even really run into them? Are they really even here? You must put all this past bad blood between the dwarves and elves behind you and allow them to coexist with you. They are good people. You and your kin misunderstand them. Where are they?" The hobbit defended his companions and asked all of his questions quickly, all at once and with no room for the elf to even offer an answer. He was frankly quite tired of all this. The elves spoke ill of his friends, and he didn't really want to hear any more of it, "Will you take me to them, please?"

Belegurdir sighed, "They are resting. They were lost in the woods for some time, just as you and Thorin were, and are quite understandably exhausted..."

"Thranduil said you ran into them yesterday," Bilbo narrowed his eyes. "How long do they need to rest? What's with all the secrecy? Why won't you let me see them? Are they even here? What have you done with them?" Bilbo stood from his chair and took a step back from the elf, suddenly very suspicious. Did these elves hate dwarves enough to do something horrible to Bilbo's friends? Is that why Thranduil had immediately separated Bilbo from Thorin? So he could get rid of Thorin like he got rid of the rest of the dwarves?

The elf stood as well. "Calm yourself, Bilbo," he spoke, his features didn't look so friendly anymore, yet they looked the same as they always did. Bilbo supposed that just meant the elf had lost his trust, "Your companions are here. And I will take you to them if that's what you wish."

"It is," Bilbo frowned.

"Very well," Belegurdir nodded with a small sigh. "Right this way..."

_**xxxxxx**_

_**I used some random elf-name generator to make these elf names, but it was like months ago. I don't even have any idea what site it was or what the names mean. It's not important anyway.**_


End file.
